


Of Blood and Butterfly Wings

by karinthea



Category: Crimson Peak (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blood Drinking, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Incest, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Sibling Incest, Smut, Vampires, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 50,196
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/karinthea/pseuds/karinthea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A vampire AU and retelling of Crimson Peak. Modern day London: The vampire Lucille Sharpe continues to wrap herself up in the past while her companion, Edith, looks towards the future. Every year on new year's eve, Lucille reminisces on the events leading up to her death, and on this particular evening, Edith decides to join her. Together, they tell the story of how they came to be creatures of darkness, starting from the day that Lucille fell in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The New and Old

**Chapter One**  
The New and Old

The hall was enveloped in darkness, and the only light streaming in came from the vibrant streetlights outside. Lace curtains swayed gently, carried by the breeze, and a soft, melancholic melody resonated throughout the entire manor. The song made the blonde smile, and she couldn’t help following that lovely sound once it reached her ears. It was like a siren’s call, tugging at her heart and her mind. It brought back a thousand conflicting emotions and so many memories, and when she found the source, she took a moment to silently stand in the doorway, resting her head against the door frame. Listening, as a dreamy smile played across her lips.

The woman at the piano sat with so much elegance and grace, and played the instrument effortlessly, as though it was second nature for her. The woman didn’t stop playing, even as she tilted her head upwards and called out the blonde’s name calmly.

“Edith?”

“I’m here,” Edith responded with a smile, and she pushed herself off of the doorframe, her shoes clicking against the floor as she approached the pianist.  Edith always admired her music, and as the decades passed, the pianist only seemed to get better at playing. Edith took a seat beside her on the cushioned piano stool, silently watching her play. Watching those pale, slender fingers hitting each key, flawlessly.

Lucille. Her darling sister, who strictly but lovingly mentored her when she was reborn into the darkness so many years ago. She had been one of Edith’s companions for a little over a century now.

_How time flies._

“I presumed you were going to watch the fireworks tonight,” Lucille finally spoke, the faintest of smiles playing across her lips. Every year, on New Year’s Eve, Edith and Thomas would go to watch the fireworks, and Lucille would remain in the manor, surrounding herself with the familiar and the old. She would read classic books and play her piano. She would sing.

_She would reflect._

Lucille expected the eve of 2016 to be no different.

“Well, yes. I was,” Edith replied, a little sheepishly, even as she reached up to stroke Lucille's cheek and run her fingers through her soft, dark locks. Lucille had cut it tonight. It just reached past her shoulders and it framed her face beautifully. Edith thought it was a pity that Lucille’s hair would grow back so quickly, as she did like the new hairstyle. But alas, tomorrow night, Lucille would look just as she did on the night she died.

Edith’s touch was gentle and soothing, caressing Lucille’s skin like the kiss of a butterfly’s wing. It was a lovely distraction, and Lucille’s own fingers stopped playing, so she could catch the woman’s hand in her own.

“But Thomas and I go every year, and you always remain here,” Edith quickly added, placing her free hand on top of Lucille’s. “I always feel terrible. I didn’t want to leave you this year, so I thought I might stay. Reflect, with you.”

It took Lucille a long moment to respond to that. They hadn’t spoken about the past in so long, and it surprised her that Edith wanted to join her and reminisce. Edith always looked towards the future. She was a vibrant, adventurous, and curious creature. All the decades, and all the horrors that they’d witnessed couldn’t steal that away from her. Despite the modern, peach cocktail dress that clung to her, and despite the smoky eye makeup, and the short blonde hair, Lucille still saw the Edith from 1901. She would always see that Edith, no matter what her little butterfly chose to do with her appearance. Lucille straightened her back and looked past Edith towards an antique cabinet. Slowly, she reached for the keys attached to her hip, and calmly removed them. When she handed them to Edith, Edith couldn’t help smiling a little triumphantly. It was as though she’d won some kind of secret, unspoken contest between the two of them.

“Go to the cabinet. I have some vintage stored in the black canister. Pour us both a glass, will you?” Lucille said, remaining straight-faced as Edith took the cold, brass keyring from her, and gleefully held it up between two fingers. And without another word, Edith stood, and made her way over to fetch the blood and their best wine glasses. There was a bit of a bounce in her step as she did so, and that almost amused the pianist. Lucille was highly protective of her keys. She had secrets stashed all over the house, and she kept the keys to those secrets nice and close, all the time. To be given Lucille’s keys was an honour, in a way. A rare occurrence.  It was proof that she trusted Edith. Proof that her heart was open to her.

Trust. It had taken a while for Lucille to truly put her trust in Edith. She found it hard to put her faith in anyone, even after her sire had taken her and Thomas on that fateful, bloody night. They had all come a long way, but some things hadn’t changed. She wasn’t warm and bright like Edith, and she shared her secrets with few people. Edith respected that.

 Lucille silently listened to the sound of blood trickling into the glasses, and soon she could smell it. Oh, how she could smell it. It was so sweet and enticing. Distracting, even. Edith turned around, holding the two glasses, and Lucille watched every move she made. The candlelight and the shadows that seemed to dance around her only made Edith look more unearthly. She was beautiful, but there was something menacing about her. Something old, and deadly. Lucille loved that about her. She could see that darkness reflecting in the woman's eyes as she brought over their refreshments. The intoxicating scent of blood was affecting her too.  
  
Edith reclaimed her spot on the piano stool, and gave Lucille her share. The two of them raised their glasses to their lips, and immediately tasted the sweet blood on their tongues. It was divine, and the two of them savored the taste, taking care not to drain their glasses too quickly. Lucille could see the way Edith’s irises became tinged with red, and when a droplet stained the right corner of her mouth, Lucille leaned in, brushing her lips against the writer’s own so she could taste the blood that trickled messily from them. Without even thinking, Edith leaned into the kiss, closing her eyes. But Lucille was quick to pull away. She knew she’d lose herself if she let her kiss linger for too long, and that just could not happen right now. It wasn’t the right time.

“Let us not get carried away, my dearest,” Lucille purred. She set her glass on top of the piano, and folded both hands in her lap. Edith did the same, and sat up a little taller.

“It is time for a story. A story that begins two weeks before my heart ceased to beat,” Lucille started, watching Edith’s pale hand settle on top of her own. The writer was so attentive, watching her, and listening to every word that left Lucille’s lips.

Lucille continued wistfully, giving a breathy sigh.

“A story that begins on the day that I, Lucille Sharpe, fell in love.”


	2. A Chance Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucille and Thomas devise a plan that will help them restore their beloved Allerdale Hall. They meet a charming and handsome stranger, but they are both oblivious to how dangerous their new "target" really is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little longer than the last one! There are mentions of child abuse, and a little bit of smut in this chapter as well.

**Chapter Two**  
A Chance Meeting

The siblings had devised a plan. They were struggling to survive, and it pained Lucille to see Thomas’s heart ache the way it did. The Sharpes had their violent and terrible secrets, but their name had once been powerful and noble. Now, the two remaining Sharpes were forced to watch their status and reputation sink with the ruin of a mansion that they called their home. Lucille adored Allerdale Hall, and she couldn’t bear to part with it. And Thomas tried so hard to create something that would save them both, and allow them to keep the house. He was so focused on restoring Allerdale Hall to what it once was, for his dear sister and for himself. But money was getting harder and harder to come by, and their growing debt loomed over them, threatening to swallow them up. Lucille could see the frustration and the disenchantment reflected in his eyes every time she looked at him, and it hurt her. Her poor Thomas. She couldn’t bear to see his sadness.

Lucille had always noticed the way he drew women to him, during their outings around London. They were enchanted by him, and while it made Lucille sick with envy, she could understand how they felt. Thomas was perfect, after all. He was perfect, and charming, and he was _hers_ , but perhaps they could use his charms to their advantage, in order to gain more funds. And so, they sat at their table in the cold, dank kitchen and they drank their tea, while speaking of seduction and murder. Thomas would entice and marry some poor, lonely creature, and Lucille would take her life. They would both gain enough money to restore parts of the house again, and no one would ever discover their crime. It would just become another secret, buried within their special place.

And this was the night they’d find someone. This was the night that their carefully thought out and rehearsed plan would come into fruition. Lucille noticed that Thomas was surprisingly quiet, that evening, as the two of them wandered through the dimly lit streets of London. He walked with the poise and elegance of a gentleman but she could read him like a book. There was a growing cloud of doubt and uncertainty hovering over him, and she could see it in the way his steps slowed and his lips pursed together each time they stopped somewhere that looked even remotely promising. Was he having doubts? Her hand suddenly gripped his arm, and her gaze met his. She didn’t have to speak for Thomas to know that she was warning him, and demanding him to keep it together for the sake of them both. They _needed_ to do this. The two of them, together.

Her gaze was still locked with his when she swiftly moved forward, and felt herself collide with someone. She stumbled back, feeling Thomas’s hands grip her shoulders, as a heavily accented, male voice delivered a smooth and swift apology. Lucille met the stranger’s eyes, and she swallowed all the harsh words she had in store for him, for a polite, and more socially acceptable answer.

“There is no need for an apology. In fact, I ought to be apologizing to you, sir,” Lucille said with a bow of her head, though there was a cold awkwardness about her tone that caused the stranger to chuckle. He seemed to see right through her obligatory politeness, but he didn’t appear to be offended by it at all. The stranger removed his top hat and bowed before the two Sharpes, though the pair watched him with stony faces and cautious eyes. Lucille noticed that there was something regal about him, and when he lifted his head and looked up at her with a courteous smile, she also noticed that he had the most intense hazel eyes she had ever seen.

“That won’t be necessary, my lady,” the stranger responded, with that deep, accented voice of his, and Lucille found herself trying to figure out where she’d heard it before.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Count Vlad Dracula,” he said, and Lucille lifted her chin, feeling Thomas’s hand squeeze her shoulder.

A rich gentleman. Lucille knew what this meant. She would have to take the reins from Thomas, and try to draw this one in. This could be a challenge. Lucille firmly believed that she could never be as charming and lovely as her Thomas, but she would try for them both.

“I am Thomas Sharpe. This is my sister, Lucille Sharpe,” Thomas intervened quickly, before Lucille could open her mouth to speak. Lucille forced a close-lipped smile, casting an unreadable glance at her brother before she spoke up.

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Lucille added, and Vlad took her hand, pressing a chaste kiss against her knuckles. His lips were surprisingly cool, as was his touch, and that caught Lucille by surprise. And the way she seemed to get lost in his eyes when he looked at her again, caught her by surprise as well. She couldn’t tear herself away, seemingly enchanted by him, and it was only when Thomas cleared his throat that she finally snapped out of it.

“I am new to this country, and I do not yet understand its customs. Won’t you join me? Show me your beautiful London,” Vlad said, finally releasing Lucille’s hand, and Lucille could see envy growing rapidly in Thomas. It was the same envy that filled Lucille’s heart each time she saw him conversing with some pretty, young thing. How she hated seeing the girls swoon, and giggle each time he dared to utter a word. Thomas edged in closer to her, as if he was protecting her from something. And he had every right to feel apprehensive. Lucille could feel her heart flutter, each time Vlad spoke, and that was something that made her feel rather conflicted, and almost uncomfortable. Lucille wasn’t someone who fell into a crumpled, love-sick heap whenever some gallant gentleman spoke to her. But there was something different about Vlad, apart from the fact that he was rather easy on the eyes, with his slick, black hair and his chiseled face. No one had ever looked at her the way he did, and she didn’t quite know what to think about that.

“It would be our pleasure,” Thomas spoke up, and the siblings exchanged unreadable glances again. Silent words, understood only by the two of them.  
And the three began to walk, together.

***

He found them. This encounter had not been by chance. The monster had lurked for months, following their every step, and listening to their every breath. Every spoken word. His senses were far sharper than theirs, and even from outside the mansion, he could hear them confessing their secrets. Their plans. The sins of the past, present and future.

She was lovely. A beauty who could spill blood and snuff out one’s life without blinking an eyelid. She understood pain, and had numbed herself to that cruel and hideous side of humanity, that showed itself once one clawed away at all the pleasantries and polished manners that society forced upon its people. With enough guidance, Lucille Sharpe would become a perfect monster.

But he couldn’t stop at just her. He needed the brother as well. He was just as lovely as she was, with a sharp mind and a natural charm. The monster had already witnessed the way women blushed in his presence, and he overheard their giggling whispers when he passed them by. He had potential.

They both did.

And the monster knew their plans. He knew they intended on killing him, and he would play along. He would get close to them both, earn their trust, and then strike.

  
***

Edith listened. Lucille spoke with such nostalgia, but there was a notable heaviness to her voice as well. The two of them had moved from the piano stool, to an antique, black velvet couch, which Lucille had fought tirelessly to preserve as well as she possibly could. Lucille was sprawled across it, her head resting in Edith’s lap and her legs dangling over the couch’s edge. Edith caressed her face and her hair as a lover might, pausing only when Lucille stopped telling her story and gazed up at the roof, losing herself in her own thoughts. Reflections were always difficult for Lucille. Her mind would go to dark places at the most inopportune moments. She’d associate a single word or gesture with some haunting chapter of her past, and then she’d become focused on it Sometimes, she’d fade away for hours. Edith observed Lucille; the way her green eyes clouded over and her face became expressionless and unblinking.

The only thing that snapped Lucille out of it was the sinfully smooth, and all too familiar voice of Thomas Sharpe, ringing out from the doorway.

“You grew enamored with him rather quickly, Lucille,” he said, and the mere sound of his voice brought a smile to Lucille’s face, as well as Edith’s. They could both hear his footsteps growing louder, and when he came into view, Lucille saw that he was dressed immaculately. He always did dress well, favouring tailored, black suits with long coats and fashionable ties. Of course, the style was far more modern than Lucille liked. Even after so many years, she favoured the old Victorian fashions, but none of them could get away with wearing those in public, on an average evening, without being questioned. A pity.

Lucille languidly extended her arm, silently begging him to come closer, and when he closed the distance between them, he knelt before her and took her wrist into one hand. He trailed kisses up her forearm, and then reached out to take Edith’s hand into his, pressing a chaste kiss against her knuckles.

“Have you come to join us, Thomas?” Edith smiled, teasing him a little as she brushed strands of black hair out of his face, and he looked up at her with the most adoring gaze. A gaze that would have driven Lucille mad with jealousy, back in the day. Their love remained strong throughout the decades, and even when they were apart for long periods of time, there wasn’t an evening where he didn’t think of her.

“If you’ll have me,” Thomas responded, taking Edith’s hand into his.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Lucille gently scolded him. Thomas was always welcome. Always. “What have you heard, so far?” She added, her words taking a monotonous, emotionless tone.

“Enough to know what happens next,” Thomas answered. And all attention turned to him.

  
***

For once in her life, Lucille appeared to be genuinely enjoying herself, and that pleased Thomas greatly. His sister was dear to his heart, and she had suffered so much heartache over far too many years. She had been beaten and tortured and tormented all her life, and the scars that marked her skin were nothing compared to the scars that marked her heart and her mind. Those scars served as reminders, for the both of them. For Thomas, they reminded him of everything she’d endured for him. The beatings. The lashings. He could still see the angry, red welts that marred her back and shoulders, and he could still hear her whimpers and sobs as she tried to hold back her tears. He still remembered the way she flinched when he pressed his lips against her skin, hoping that his kisses might make it all better.

Vlad was a charming fellow. There was no doubt about that. As the night went on, he seemed to be slowly chipping away at the wall that Lucille often built up around herself in public, and that was no small feat. He spoke to her of music, and of literature and they even discussed entomology together. Lucille spoke passionately about insects, and about her collections at Allerdale Hall, and Thomas watched her in silence. It was good to see Lucille speak about what made her happy, but Thomas did feel the envy continuing to build up inside of him ever so slowly.  
  
“I have never met someone with such a passion for insects,” he heard Vlad say to her, sounding intrigued by the woman who sat beside him on the park bench. Despite the darkness of the evening, the three of them had retreated to a park not too far from the declining hustle and bustle of the city. Lucille sat between Thomas and Vlad, with her hands folded in her lap.

“I have always been fascinated by them. Even as a child, I collected butterflies and moths,” Lucille confessed, and Thomas could see that her thoughts had drifted somewhere dark and terrible for a moment. He could see her eyes glaze over and her expression grow blank, if only for a second or two. He could always pinpoint the exact moment when the past returned to torment her. If Vlad noticed, it wasn’t apparent.

“We have black moths, at home. They do not share the beauty of my butterflies, but they are admirable creatures. They do what they must to survive,” Lucille added, her words subdued.  
  
“Ah, but in my humble opinion, moths can be just as lovely as butterflies,” Vlad replied in a low voice. Thomas saw her drift off again, and this time, it was a little harder for him to guess what she was thinking. But she seemed to grip the material of her skirt rather tightly, and for a moment, she appeared to be almost confused.

“Is that so?” Lucille finally answered, icily. That rare, passionate Lucille that Thomas had watched seconds early had vanished without a trace, and in its place was the pained and guarded Lucille he knew all too well. Perhaps she felt she’d let her guard down a little too much, and now she was scrambling frantically to build the wall back up, brick by brick.

“Indeed, it is,” Vlad responded, and Thomas noted that he didn’t seem at all bothered by her sudden attitude change.

“You must visit my home, sometime. I would like to show you my library. And, I would be honored to hear one of Lucille’s songs, if it pleases her of course,” he added, and Lucille managed a short nod.

“I would be delighted,” she answered, standing. “Shall we continue our walk?”

The two gentlemen followed suit, and Thomas found himself watching her carefully, concerned.

***

Thomas was notably aggressive, once the two siblings returned to their hotel that evening. She didn’t even have a chance to change into her nightgown before his hands were all over her, running over every perfect curve of her slender and naked form. It caught her by surprise, but she adored the spontaneity, whispering desire-filled words of encouragement, as she watched their reflections in the tall mirror that stood in front of the two of them. With a growing smile, she watched those delicate hands of his stroke her skin and cup her breasts, kneading them. He buried his face against her neck, and she tilted her head to the side, cupping the back of his head in turn. He was jealous. Perhaps a little scared. And she wanted to show him that he would always be hers, and she would always be his.

_Never apart._

His fingers dug into her flesh, and he licked and bit at her throat, growling with a lusty need against her. The two of them started to walk blindly together, too lost in the throes of passion to register where they were even going. Lucille’s leg tapped the edge of the bed and they both tumbled onto the soft mattress. Thomas planted hot and heated kisses down the center of her shuddering, squirming body, while she tangled her long fingers through his dark hair, and purred his name. He settling between her thighs, and their gazes met, both filled with lust. Lucille smiled and parted her legs a little wider, and Thomas gripped her legs, kissing and running his tongue over the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Lucille jolted, feeling his lips and tongue tease her between her legs, and the way he groaned and grunted hungrily as he tasted her was like music to her ears.  
Little did they know, the monster watched. He saw them through the eyes of a tiny moth, clinging to the wallpaper. He heard their moans and their forbidden proclamations of love, and watched as their bodies writhed and quivered, and their limbs tangled together.  
  
Soon.

They would be his, soon enough.


	3. Invitations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Sharpes visit Vlad's home in London, and Lucille finds herself growing increasingly fond of him. Vlad wishes to spend more time with Lucille, and Thomas invites him to visit Allerdale Hall...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are more references to child abuse at the beginning of this chapter. 
> 
> I discovered an unfortunate continuity error in chapter two, and so I have made some minor alterations to it's ending. Sorry for any confusion!

**Chapter Three  
** Invitations

 

Dusk was quickly approaching, and Lucille and Thomas had dressed in their finest evening wear. They were to meet Vlad at his new home at Carfax. He had spoken of it rather fondly during their meeting, the night before. Vlad had insisted that they visit, and of course, they were more than happy to accept the invitation. It would be a pleasant, and quiet evening. There would be no grand parties, or new acquaintances to be made. This would be a nice and simple visit to the home of their newest ‘friend’. And that relieved Lucille far more than she was willing to admit. She loathed social gatherings. She loathed keeping up appearances for judgmental eyes and poisonous tongues. One wrong step, and there would be harsh whispers for days.

_Months._

_Years._

Punishment would always come for those who made mistakes. Lucille could still remember the days of her youth, when her parents still held lavish parties and Lucille was forced to come downstairs for a moment or two, only to entertain the guests with poetry or song. A forgotten verse, a line sung out of key, or a less than perfect curtsy would earn Lucille the sting of the cane once the mansion grew dark and the doors were closed to outsiders. Lucille would often stare at the demon who called herself ‘mother’, when she flew into fits of rage. The haggard woman’s face would twist with fury and spittle would fly from her cracked lips each time she damned the poor girl with harsh words that tore at her from the inside.

_Useless. Wicked. Unwanted._

Every word was like a knife being driven into the young child’s heart, but she still refused to look away from her mother when she screamed and belittled her with such ruthlessness. She always saw the devil reflected in those eyes, and she _couldn't_ look away.

Parties made Lucille feel tense, and on the rare occasion that she did attend one, she was always actively scrutinizing every move she made. While she was now free from her mother’s cane, she was not free from the memories and they often influenced her behavior. They haunted her. Lucille always took care of her appearance. She never left the house unless she looked immaculate. But she was even more particular about how she looked, tonight. And Lucille wanted to believe that her fussing was all because Vlad was their target. Thomas was depending on her to ensnare him, after all. She kept telling herself that she had to look the part, while furiously trying to ignore that nagging desire for approval and adoration that kept rearing its ugly head. Lucille was not lovely. This, she believed with all her heart. She could never be as beautiful as the sweet and gracious butterflies, who thrived in the glorious light of the sun, and made people smile simply by _breathing_. No one fawned over the moth. The moth was far from alluring and pleasant. It was and always would be an unloved pest. How could someone like Lucille Sharpe possibly succeed at winning Vlad’s heart? What was she thinking? And why did her chest tighten and flutter every time she thought of him? He had been rather charming, but she wasn’t supposed to feel this way. He was just a means to an end. A way of helping Thomas fund his dreams, so they could keep Allerdale Hall. And what of Thomas? She was loyal to him. She had promised to care only for him. She couldn’t possibly make any room in her heart for this dashing stranger, who had kindly listened to her speak of her passions without growing bored or dismissive.

She sighed, looking over her reflection in the mirror with pursed lips. Her dress was made of crimson taffeta, with black lace and black silk rose petals lining the frilled sleeves and the long, ruffled skirt. Her hair was in a perfectly tight bun, and there wasn’t a strand out of place. But she wasn’t satisfied. The woman was desperately  _trying_ to find something wrong, and it was only when she heard Thomas’s voice ring out from the hall, that she pulled herself away from the mirror, and opened the door to her hotel room. And when Thomas saw her, she heard his breath catch, and for a moment he seemed frozen.

“Your thoughts, Thomas? Do I look terrible?” she asked, stepping aside to let him in.

He entered with slow steps and shut the door behind him. And when Lucille felt his eyes on her again, she spun around for him. The skirt rustled against the wooden floorboards as she showed off the gown to him. Even in the dim light of the fancy hotel room, the taffeta seemed to gleam. Of course, she had become so obsessed with her appearance on this night, that his reaction made her think that she looked awful. She had to ask. She needed to hear his thoughts. His _honest_ thoughts. But Thomas didn’t speak. Instead, he took a couple of long strides towards her and gripped both of her shoulders tightly. Lucille tensed at the sudden and unexpected contact, but relaxed herself the moment he claimed her lips, kissing her hard, and letting it linger. When he pulled away, he raised his hand to her cheek, tenderly stroking his fingers over her skin.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his lips hovering over hers. “He would be a fool to let you go.”

He took her into his arms, and Lucille leaned into him, taking in the rich scent of his cologne, which mixed in with her own, violet perfume.

“And what if I fail? What if he doesn’t find me lovely enough?” Lucille finally spoke up, after allowing herself to wallow in her own doubts again.

And Thomas’s hand slipped down to grasp hers. It wasn’t like Lucille to have doubts, unless something was truly troubling her. Thomas knew she didn’t like to be perceived as weak, or fragile. He squeezed her hand.

“He appeared to take an interest in you, during our walk. You have nothing to fear,” he said reassuringly, and she squeezed his hand in return, growing silent once more.

The pair broke their embrace and exited the hotel room, without another word. For the remainder of the evening, they would take on the roles of a normal brother and sister, once again hiding their secrets from the public eye. But what had Lucille gotten herself into? Honestly? She couldn’t possibly be charming enough to keep the Count’s interest for long. He would soon realise that there was something ‘wrong’ with her. Then it would all be over.

***

“Welcome to my home,” Vlad said with a refined elegance, when he opened the door to the Sharpes.

He firmly shook Thomas’s hand, before taking Lucille’s. Surprisingly cold lips grazed her knuckles, and she curtsied, smiling a smile that seemed almost genuine. Carfax was a grand old building. It was a place that was certainly fitting for someone of Vlad’s status. An old-world classiness radiated from it, and Lucille was quite impressed. Vlad stepped aside, and Lucille noticed the beautiful décor immediately. The polished, mahogany furniture, and the intricately patterned bookshelf, lined with what had to be at least a hundred books. She saw a piano, illuminated by the flickering, warm light of a dozen lit candles. And on a table sat a porcelain tea set, with two saucers and cups already set for Vlad’s guests.

Two cups and saucers. Not three. How odd.

“Please, sit. I have made you both some tea,” Vlad said, and the two Sharpes made themselves comfortable.

They both sat up tall, and Lucille held her head up high, offering another smile when Vlad sat across from them.

“You won’t be joining us?” Lucille asked curiously, to which Vlad shook his head.

“Not this evening. But please, enjoy,” he replied, taking a hold of the teapot.

He took care, pouring the tea for the two of them, and Lucille thanked him, graciously. A sweet, floral aroma flooded her senses, and when Lucille took the porcelain cup into her hands, she savored its warmth. The nights were growing so much colder now. This was exactly what she needed. Vlad addressed Thomas, and Thomas began telling him about his business ideas. He told Vlad about the machine he wanted to build, and about the toys he used to build for Lucille, and Lucille listened for a while. But once she finished her tea, she left the men to talk, and strode over to the bookshelf. He had quite a vast library, with books on almost every topic imaginable. He had both fiction and non-fiction, and each book appeared to be beautifully bound. They were certainly not of poor quality. As much as she wanted to look more closely at them, she didn’t dare touch them. It wouldn’t be polite at all, and so she admired them from afar. She didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, reading over every title that sat on the shelf, but she was surprised when she found Vlad standing beside her. He was close enough that their shoulders almost touched, and in his hands, he held something wrapped neatly in a black, silk cloth.

“I have read every title on this bookshelf. And there are many more in the library,” he admitted, and she found herself getting lost in those eyes of his again.

“It is not much, but please accept this gift,” he added, offering the cloth bound item to her with both hands. Lucille seemed to hesitate, caught off-guard by his gesture, but she still took it from him, noting its weight and its rectangular shape.

“That isn’t necessary,” she murmured, unfolding the cloth to discover a thick tome.

It was an updated book on entomology, with all the latest discoveries documented inside. She had stumbled upon the same book, yesterday, at the bookshop and she remembered her disappointment, knowing she couldn’t afford to buy it. She was rendered speechless, as she held that same book in her hands, but Vlad filled the silence for her.

“You have such a passion for insects. I enjoyed listening to every word you said, last night and when I saw this book, I immediately thought of you,” he said, and Lucille felt that strange flutter in her chest again. No one, apart from Thomas, had ever gifted her with anything.

“Thank you, Vlad. It’s perfect,” she replied, feeling Thomas’s gaze on them both.

What was he thinking, right now? Did his heart ache, watching the two of them together? Oh, her poor, poor Thomas. Did he feel the same envy that filled her own heart when she watched him chatter with so many elegant, carefree butterflies?

“Perhaps we can read it, together,” Vlad said, lowering his voice so his words only reached her ears. His eyes were earnest. He craved her company, and she could see that it would wound him to decline.

“I should like that, very much,” she responded, keeping her voice just as low. 

"Will you take a walk with me, tomorrow evening?” Vlad asked her, and she could feel a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips. He held out his hand, and without even thinking, she touched her fingers to his palm.

“It would be an honour,” Lucille answered, still unable to tear her gaze away from his. She felt his hand close over hers, and he pressed his lips to her knuckles.

“It is I who should feel honoured. To have the most beautiful woman in England by my side…”

“You flatter me,” Lucille said, unable to accept his compliment. The way she said those three simple words sounded distant, and uncertain. It was like she didn’t believe him. But he just smiled, and let her hand go.

“I merely speak the truth, Lucille. You are far more captivating than you are willing to believe,” he told her firmly, and without another word, he turned to join Thomas once more.

“Thomas. I hope you are not opposed to me stealing your sister away from you for an hour or two, tomorrow evening?” he asked with a smile, and Thomas shook his head, without hesitation. Lucille couldn’t read the expression on Thomas’s face. He was keeping his emotions well hidden under a mask of polite stoicism.

“Of course not.”

“And when do you return to Cumberland?” Vlad questioned.

Thomas cleared his throat.

“The day after tomorrow,” Thomas responded, glancing at Lucille.

She could see the gears turning in his head. The two of them knew they couldn’t afford to stay in London for longer than they had planned, but they couldn’t let this one go. Vlad was growing fond of Lucille, and they needed to keep that flame alive.

“It would please us both, if you paid us a visit at Allerdale Hall,” Thomas offered, and Lucille instantly stiffened.

She stared at Thomas as though he had gone completely mad. Allerdale Hall was indeed their beloved home, but it was falling apart. There was red clay oozing through floorboards and a gaping hole in the roof, which only seemed to grow worse as the days went by. Surely, the sight of such a place would send someone like Vlad running. She couldn’t let him see it.

“Thomas, I…” she started, and Vlad shook his head, interrupting her mid-sentence.

“Thomas has informed me of the state of your ancestral home. It is of no concern to me, Lucille,” he said. “I could visit you next week.”

“Splendid. It is a long journey from London to Cumberland, so I must insist you stay a couple of nights,” Thomas said, glancing at Lucille again.

Lucille did not look so convinced. She still believed that Vlad would walk away, the moment he saw the state of their home. She pursed her lips together and sat beside Thomas, setting her book on her lap. Once they were alone, she would have a talk to Thomas. But for now, she remained as calm as she could, taking deep, controlled breaths.

“Perfect. I shall look forward to it,” Vlad said, but Lucille felt her heart sink and her stomach turn.

This would ruin everything, would it not?

***

Pale moonlight trickled in from the circular window above Lucille’s bed, and it illuminated the woman’s skin as she sat on her knees and sung a somber and unfamiliar melody. Her song rang through the dusty, unlit halls of Allerdale, and as Thomas followed the sound, the black moths fluttered and danced all around him. Their wings grazed his skin, and they flew ahead of him, like tiny guides. Once he stopped by Lucille’s door, it seemed to open on its own. Indeed, she sat on her bed, and her long, dark hair seemed to billow around her, as though it had a mind of its own. There was another woman on the bed with her. She was a youthful, beautiful stranger with tightly curled red hair that cascaded down her bare back. Lucille appeared to be cradling her to her chest, gently rocking the woman like a child. Her fingers stroked the woman’s hair, but she stopped when she saw Thomas standing there, staring at her. Lucille extended her arm, beckoning to him.

“Come to me, Thomas,” she called to him.

Her words were hypnotic, like a siren’s call. Something was so very wrong, but the longer he gazed into her inhumanely green eyes, the more he was drawn to her. His body began to move before he even realised that he was walking towards her, unable to resist. He crawled onto the bed, and felt Lucille’s unusually icy fingers stroke his cheek. The woman lifted her head, staring up at Lucille adoringly, and Lucille grinned in a way Thomas had never witnessed. It was menacing. Monstrous. Her incisors grew, becoming long, pointed fangs, and with the speed of a striking serpent, she grabbed the girl and sunk her teeth into her throat. Thomas saw the woman squirm, whimper and cry as her hands clawed desperately at Lucille, but she soon grew limp in his sister’s arms. Thomas should have been horrified by the sight, but all he could do was watch the blood drip from the woman’s neck and listen to the enraptured groans of his sister, while she drained the woman of her blood. Her lips were stained red when she finally pulled away. Reaching out, she grabbed Thomas’s jaw with one hand, and pulled him closer to her. She kissed him forcefully, and when he parted his lips, a gush of blood spilled from her mouth to his. Thomas gagged at first, but was forced to drink the thick, coppery liquid. And it was far sweeter than it had any right to be.

There was a hunger growing inside of him, as he tasted Lucille’s lips, and he found himself pulling her closer to him. He felt her teeth pierce his tongue, and could taste his own blood.

The woman lay cold between them both, forgotten.

***

Thomas Sharpe’s eyes snapped open. What madness had inspired such a dream? It had been so vivid. So terrible. Thomas did not wish to dwell upon it for too long, but he could remember every detail. And he swore he could still taste the blood that Lucille had forced him to drink from her lips.

Thomas sat up, and blindly reached for his handkerchief. Once his fingers found it, he dabbed it against his forehead, soaking up the tiny beads of sweat that had begun to form on his skin. He turned his head to the window, watching the curtains dance with the gentle morning breeze. Sun filtered through the window and he could hear birds chirping outside, but the serenity around him did nothing to ease his horror, after such a dream. He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, listening to his own breaths, but he did flinch when he heard a gentle rapping at the door. With a sigh, he eased out of bed, and grabbed his robe, before opening the door. It was Lucille. She looked much paler than usual. Her hair was unruly and unkempt, and her eyes were dull and dark. She looked utterly exhausted. Ill, even.

“Lucille,” He quickly ushered her inside, and closed the door behind him. “What’s wrong, Lucille?”

“I barely slept, Thomas,” she confessed weakly, sounding as tired as she looked. “I had the most dreadful dreams. I’m feeling rather poorly.” And with that, she slipped her arms around his waist, and leaned into him, seeking comfort.

So she had been shaken by terrible dreams as well. Whatever visions she saw had clearly distressed her enough to seek his embrace, and if her nightmares were anything like his own, then he could understand why. He wrapped his arms around her, and held her tightly, kissing her forehead. Then he lifted his eyes to the window again, and wondered why it was open when he was certain he’d closed it before retiring to bed. The two of them stood in silence, comforting each other. Reminding each other that nightmares couldn’t hurt them….

***

They invited the monster in. With a few words, Thomas had given him permission to enter Allerdale Hall, and from there, he would carry out the rest of his plan. It was far too easy. They were desperate for money. They were desperate for a victim, and they didn’t realise that they were playing right into his hands. He looked forward to claiming them as his own. They would make beautiful, dark children. And Lucille truly did captivate him. He wasn’t lying when he said she was lovely. Both of the Sharpes were fascinating, beautiful, tragic monsters. Of all the lovely creatures he had encountered over the years, the Sharpes stood out as being _worthy_ of his blood.

He only hoped they would accept it.


	4. The Dragon and The Moth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucille quickly realises that she's falling for Vlad, and she isn't entirely sure how to cope with her feelings. Meanwhile, more nightmares plague her, and she begins to feel increasingly weak.

  **Chapter Four  
** The Dragon and The Moth

The night-time air was crisp, and the wind carried a hint of chimney smoke. Vlad and Lucille went for their walk, as they had planned, despite Lucille’s weakness earlier in the morning. While she was still very tired, she seemed to be feeling a little better, which was a relief as she couldn’t _afford_ to catch a chill. Linking her arm with his, she listened to the sound of their footsteps against the cobblestone, and tried not to think about the nightmares that had plagued her. Such horrible dreams they were, filled with blood, and fire and hollow screams. Lucille wasn’t normally squeamish. Her heart had hardened to the sight of blood, long ago. But this was different. These dreams were…

_They were monstrous._

“Something troubles you, my lady,” Vlad spoke softly, and she looked up at him with tired eyes and a strained, tight-lipped smile. As much as she’d tried to hide the circles under her eyes, she was certain they were obvious to him.

“I didn’t sleep well last night,” she answered with a displeased little sigh, and he seemed to hold on to her arm a little tighter. It felt like a gesture of understanding, as though he knew some secret that she didn’t, but that was something she didn’t dwell on for too long. She was overthinking things, and that was obviously due to her exhaustion.

“Then, perhaps we should return to your hotel,” he suggested, and Lucille immediately shook her head in protest, pulling away so she could turn to face him. The thought of parting from him so soon filled her with a dread that she didn’t quite expect. Their walk had been so pleasant so far, and their conversation had filled her with some strange, unfamiliar emotion. Was it joy? Happiness? She wasn’t entirely certain.

“I don’t want this to end, Vlad. Not yet,” she spoke, in a way that was uncharacteristically subdued. It shocked her, to hear her words carry such a tone, but she truly couldn’t bear to let her nightmares ruin such a pleasant evening. A deep chuckle sounded from the back of his throat, and unnaturally cold fingers caressed her cheek, and traced the scar that marked the delicate skin just above her lip.

“Nor do I,” he whispered, as she shivered and swiftly caught his hand in hers. “I have grown rather fond of you, Lady Lucille. Your beauty and your passions have captured my heart.”

This was it. Lucille needed to seize this opportunity for both Thomas and herself. He was making this far too easy, and Lucille had to take advantage of it. She had to do this, and though her heart beat like a drum, she couldn’t let her feelings get in the way. Those feelings were tearing at her from the inside, and guilt taunted her each time his pretty words made her heart flutter. What a betrayal. It would kill Thomas to know how Vlad made her feel. Wouldn’t it? It would destroy him to know how much she wanted to receive love and affection from this dashing gentleman. She needed to get this all over with, before things took a turn for the worst.

Her lips parted but she found herself speechless. This world of romance and courtship was not for her, and she was reminded of that as she struggled to find the right thing to say to him in response.

_This was her chance. She couldn’t throw it away._

“I have grown fond of you too. It is a pity that I must leave tomorrow,” Lucille finally managed to say, after some deliberation.

“But I will see you again,” he reminded her, giving her hand a squeeze.

Lucille still hadn’t warmed up to the idea of Vlad visiting her beloved Allerdale Hall, and she didn’t make much of an effort to hide that fact, with the way she pursed her lips together and let her gaze fall to the ground. While Lucille loved Allerdale more than anything, she was convinced that he would hate it. Would he look down upon her? Would he see her as a little less lovely, with her unfashionable clothes and her decaying home, and her lack of money? Other aristocrats surely would. Abruptly, his fingers settled under her chin, and he lifted her head, forcing her to look at him again.

“You needn’t worry. I will not be frightened away so easily,” he said earnestly, cupping her face in his hands with a tenderness that was foreign to Lucille. It felt like he had read her mind, and heard all of her fears. He leaned in, whispering more of his sweet words into her ear.

“Be mine, Lucille, and I will take care of you for all eternity. I will give you all that you desire. You have my word.”

Lucille was, once again, speechless. It was pathetic. She was choking on sentimentality and guilt; two emotions that had not stirred inside of her for years and years. Why was this happening now? Such sweet promises. She couldn’t possibly be naïve enough to believe them. Still, when he suddenly stole a kiss from her lips, she did nothing to pull away. Instead, her hands gripped his arms, and she reciprocated with a hunger that she had been struggling to repress all evening. One that she couldn’t control. And when he broke the kiss, he then leaned in and brushed his lips against the scar on her forehead and on her lip, and her nails dug into his shoulders in turn. His shirt bunched up between her tense, slender fingers. It was as though it hurt her, to feel his lips against her old wounds.

The moth wanted love. She craved love. But she couldn’t return it. She could _never_ return it.

This was not going to end happily.

***

Lucille dreamed of blood again. It dripped from bodies that hung, by their ankles from the ceiling; their throats gashed open from ear to ear, and their eyes wide and lifeless. Blood dripped into a bathtub that already overflowed with it. Red spilled over the porcelain, and pooled on the floor, but it didn’t faze Lucille at all. She lay in the tub, letting the blood drip onto her face. She tilted her chin and watched the twisted expressions of all of her victims with a morbid, quiet fascination, and her hands rubbed over her skin and through her hair. And when she heard the soft patter of footsteps, she turned her head and smiled at the strange woman who stared back at her, unblinking.

What a stunning creature she was; A beautiful young woman with long, wavy blonde locks and warm, brown eyes that seemed to glow in the darkness. And Lucille didn’t seem disturbed by her presence at all. In fact, she gestured for her to come closer. She welcomed the company.

But the girl didn’t move, despite Lucille’s invitation.

“What is your name?” Lucille asked, but when the girl tried to speak, no words came out. It was just a deep, rasping, breathy noise, followed by a thick stream of blood that began to pour from the woman's mouth. It bubbled and drooled from her lips, staining the front of her dress and pooling at her feet.

Lucille woke up.

***

“ _Lucille._ ”

Edith couldn’t help giggling, as she playfully coiled strands of Lucille’s dark hair around her finger. She was grinning like a teenager who had just uncovered some kind of forbidden secret, but by the way Lucille raised an eyebrow, it was clear that she wasn’t following Edith’s train of thought.  
  
“You never told me just how smitten you were, with him,” she said with a teasing, musical lilt to her voice.

“Ah, she doesn’t like to admit it, you see,”Thomas chimed in, and Lucille immediately shot him the look of a woman, betrayed.

“I was not _smitten_  with him,” Lucille quickly defended herself, but it was far too late. Edith and Thomas were exchanging _glances_ , and that meant that they had already made up their minds on the matter, regardless of what Lucille had to say in protest.

Lucille was quite good at denying her feelings, and the pair understood that. They knew her far too well. That was the result of over a century of companionship. They all knew each other’s little quirks intimately. Edith teased. Thomas joined in. And Lucille denied.

“You do speak rather fondly of him, for someone who was _never_ smitten with him,” Edith joked, though her expression quickly grew serious once again.

“But there’s nothing wrong with that, Lucille. You’re allowed to give love, and receive it, just as much as anyone else.”

“Well, I felt as though I had betrayed Thomas. At the time, I was all he had. And he soothed my heart when no one else could,” Lucille confessed, her voice growing low and emotionless.

Edith had taken to stroking her face again, knowing that Lucille loved the feeling of Edith’s fingers caressing her skin. It often helped her, quelling her emotions when they got too overwhelming. Edith, who had once been a source of jealousy and pain, was now a calming influence on the woman. She was a light, to which Lucille was often drawn.

“And I was-“

“Frightened?” Edith asked, but Lucille didn’t answer, opting to stare at the roof instead. Edith grew silent too. She wouldn’t press for information. She knew better than to try and force Lucille to talk.  
  
“Love always brought pain. It always went hand in hand. What path would it lead me down? And you, Thomas…”

Edith could have teased her again. After all, she had essentially admitted to falling in love with Vlad. But it didn’t feel right, to do that while Lucille was baring her soul to her and to Thomas.

“I was envious. I can’t deny that, but I wanted you to be happy. Your happiness has always been of the utmost importance to me,” Thomas said, kissing Lucille’s shoulder, and she practically purred like a kitten in response.

“I feel so selfish. You accepted Vlad and me so readily, but I was so overwhelmed with jealousy when you met Edith. I couldn’t bear it,” Lucille whispered, as though it wounded her to make such a confession. It was the closest thing to an apology that Lucille could muster, but both Edith and Thomas had heard it before. They knew what she was trying to say. Edith shook her head and reached for Lucille’s hand, holding it with a touch that was as light as a feather.

“It was another change. We understand,” Edith smiled. After her own death, Edith had learned just how difficult change was, for Lucille Sharpe. “And if you truly hated me, you would not have mentored me, or cared about me, when Thomas and I were stranded.”

That brought a tiny smile to Lucille’s face, as she finally sat up. But Edith wasn’t going to give her any space. She leaned in to the other woman, resting her head on her shoulder. A mischievous smile played across her lips.

“Besides, I wasn’t about to keep Thomas all to myself. Especially when you were so kind as to share Vlad with me,” she chuckled coquettishly, before pecking Lucille’s lips. And Lucille traced her fingers over the writer’s soft lips.

“Hm. I did do that, didn’t I? What a lovely vision, that was,” Lucille mused a little huskily, kissing Edith with just a little more need behind it.

Vlad had taken Edith countless times, but the first time was always the most memorable. She could remember the ecstasy that coloured her darling butterfly’s face, and the way the woman’s body trembled and writhed violently, as Vlad practically devoured her perfect form. The moans and whimpers of pure lust that had spilled from Edith’s lips. It had been quite the vision indeed.

“I’m here,” Thomas interrupted, clearing his throat, though there was a twinkle of amusement in his eyes that both women caught right away.

“I’m sorry. Are you feeling left out, Thomas?” Edith laughed, as Lucille scooted over, making room for him between them both.

Edith placed her hand on the newly made space and gave it a little pat, and when he sat down, both women lay their heads on his shoulders.

“Now, what was I saying, before I got so distracted?” Lucille murmured, running her hand over Thomas’s thigh.

“You kissed your beloved, and then you had another nightmare,” Edith reminded her.

“Ah, yes. I awoke, and I was dreadfully ill, yet again. Thomas had to carry me to the carriage, and I slept, during most of the journey back to Allerdale Hall.”

“And a couple of days later…” Thomas spoke up. “Vlad arrived.”


	5. Always Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Vlad finally arrives at Allerdale Hall, one must ask...who is the true manipulator?

**Chapter 5  
** Always Together

Lucille Sharpe couldn't move. She heard the knock against the heavy doors of Allerdale, from where she stood at the top of the stairs, and yet she couldn't bring herself to answer it. Instead, her fingers gripped at the banister and she stared down, as though doing so for long enough might make him give up and leave. There was, indeed, a big part of her that wanted Vlad to go away. Her feelings for him frightened her, and it would have been so much simpler just to let him go, so she no longer had to struggle and deny such troublesome, unwelcome thoughts. If she chased him away, she could then focus on finding a wife for Thomas, as the two Sharpes had originally planned. Life was getting far too complicated, far too quickly, and it was leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. Each time she thought of Vlad with fondness, she then remembered her whispered promise to her brother, when they'd huddled together in the nursery, seeking warmth and comfort after another confrontation with their mother.

Always together, never apart.

She had done so much for him. She was his sister, his friend, and his lover. Lucille couldn't abandon him and leave him to fend for himself. Nor could she break his heart, by admitting her love for another, when she'd promised never to fall in love. She never thought it would actually happen. Life was making a fool of her, to be sure. She was meant to seduce him, only for his money. Not for love. She _wanted_ to persevere with their plan, but what if things got out of control?

"What are you doing?" Thomas asked, darting past her with urgency.

Her breath caught, watching Thomas practically dash to the door, and for a moment, she wanted to chase him and pull him away. But before she could open her mouth, those heavy doors swung open, and she saw _him_. He removed his hat and shook Thomas's hand, speaking words to him that Lucille couldn't hear from where she stood. Now, there was no point in standing back. Defeated, she released the banister, and descended with a cat-like grace, while keeping her focus on Vlad. And when he finally looked at her, she felt her heart skip a beat, and she silently scolded herself for it. There was no love for her to give to him. At least, she refused to believe that she could love another, the way she loved Thomas. And she clung to that denial desperately, fighting to mute the reality of the situation.

"Vlad. Welcome to Allerdale Hall," Lucille said with a voice that lacked warmth, holding her hand to him. If he noticed the rotting walls and the hole in the rooftop, he didn't make it obvious. His focus was on Lucille, and Lucille only.

"Thank you for your kind invitation. I am pleased to be here," he smiled at her, raising her hand to his lips. "You have a lovely home."

Was he mocking them? Allerdale Hall was in terrible condition, and though Lucille refused to abandon it, even she could see just how much it had decayed over the years. As dashing as he was, she had to wonder if he was mad. She raised an eyebrow, before straightening her back and looking up to the damaged roof. Occasionally, a leaf would float through the gap, fluttering elegantly to the ground.

"You must take care, here. There are parts of the house that are unsafe," she warned, calmly. She bunched up her velvet skirt so it no longer touched the ground, and she pressed her foot down on one of the old floorboards, watching red clay ooze up from between the gaps. The wind groaned and howled at the same time, and it sounded as if the house was in pain. Wounded and bleeding.

"It's unstable," Lucille warned, with a sigh, shivering as a draft caressed her skin and ruffled her tightly styled hair.

"I will be careful, my dear Lucille. I thank you for your warning," he said, taking both of her hands into his own, as soon as she stepped away from the oozing clay.

"Once it is restored, it will be quite grand. And I will help you. I have already made you that promise."

Lucille didn't dare look at Thomas, as she was afraid to see the expression on his face, as Vlad spoke his sweet words, and looked at her with such adoration.

"You are too kind," she spoke sternly, remaining stony-faced. Her coldness towards him still didn't seem to bother him, which was both a blessing and a curse. She didn't _really_ want to chase him away because she needed to carry out the plan, but she also couldn't afford to let her tightly reigned feelings get out of control. Never did she imagine such a predicament. This was a dangerous game that she was playing.

"Come. Let us show you to your room," she pulled away and turned her back to him abruptly, without another word. Thomas skittered after her, flashing Vlad an apologetic smile, and while Vlad returned it with a nod, there was no knowing what was actually going on in his head.

***

Once Vlad had been given the tour of the house, Thomas disappeared into his workshop, to continue some of his various projects. Perhaps it was rude to disappear when they had a guest, but he needed to give Lucille space, so she could work on ensnaring him. He figured it would be more difficult, if he was present too often. And so he took the time to surround himself with his passions and his joys, taking in the scent of wood, paint and metal. They calmed him, oddly enough.

"I must say, your workshop is quite impressive," Vlad mused, stepping inside.

Thomas was visibly surprised by his presence, as he had not heard Vlad approach. But he was quick to hide it, with an appreciative nod and a polite smile that silently forgave the man for startling him. He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about Vlad. Lucille fought so hard to hide her feelings but Thomas could tell that she fancied him, and that did make him feel a little resentful. But he also felt something that could be described as relief, and for that, he felt intensely guilty, as well as ungrateful to Lucille. He didn't dare admit to such feelings. He had no one to confide in over them, anyway. But he did feel terrible. He loved his sister with all his heart. She had protected him, and sacrificed so much for him over the years. She took beatings and shed tears, all for him. She had given him love and comfort when no one else would. But their love was one of secrecy and guilt, and she exhausted him at times.

_She frightened him._

He would be there to soothe her fears and her hurts, but they would always return from the moment he left her side. Sometimes, he wanted to leave Allerdale Hall and cast the Sharpe name aside forever. There was nothing good to be found among the mansion's rotting walls and decaying furniture. But he stayed for Lucille. She let the house consume her, and let the past coil around her like a venomous serpent, and Thomas so desperately wanted to save her. He just didn't know how. Perhaps things would change with Vlad. Perhaps there would be no need for murder at all. They would all be free, and Lucille would finally be happy. She would be saved from the memories that tore at her so relentlessly. Lucille could indeed marry Vlad, and while he would miss the feeling of her embrace and her lovely lips against his skin in the dead of the night.... maybe it was for the best. The secrets could be put to rest, at last.

"Thank you," Thomas spoke a little proudly.

His workshop was one of the few things that made him happy. It was his space, where he was free to use his skills, and let his imagination flow.

"Lucille told me you once crafted toys for her here," Vlad mused, his boots heavy against the floorboards as he walked around and observed the well-lit room. His eyes scrutinized but he didn't touch anything. Thomas noticed his scrutiny and felt a little surge of pride running through him once he saw Vlad's approving smile. But then, Vlad's attention turned to Thomas's current project, and he approached it with interest, peering over Thomas's shoulder. Thomas was carving wood, and shaping little moths into what appeared to be a small jewelry box. Vlad watched him work with tireless enthusiasm, and he made an impressed little sound.

"You are quite skilled, Thomas," he praised. "What is it?"

"A gift, for Lucille. She has been feeling rather poorly and I had hoped that this might brighten her spirits a little," Thomas said, with concern in his voice.

"I'm sure she will love it," Vlad said, reaching down to trace his fingers over the beautifully crafted carvings. And, quite unexpectedly, he took Thomas's hand into his own, which caused Thomas to look at him, wide-eyed.

"You are good to your sister, Thomas. But I wonder if you ever take the time to focus on your own happiness?" he said, grazing his thumb over Thomas's smooth, soft skin.

Thomas took a deep breath, uncertain how to react. But his heart seemed to beat a little faster, looking into Vlad's piercing gaze.

"I, uh. I have. Of course," he stuttered a little, failing to hide his own uncertainty. He was struggling to remember the last time he truly focused on himself. And Vlad seemed to pick up on it immediately.

"Be sure that you do," Vlad said, and he finally let Thomas's hand go. The coolness of his touch lingered, and their gazes remained locked for a curiously long time. But Vlad finally broke it, stepping away to observe the toys again. Thomas couldn't figure out what to say to Vlad, after that unexpected encounter, and so they were both silent for at least a minute or two, until Vlad turned to Thomas once again.

"I admit, I am here for a reason Thomas," he said.

"And what is your reason?" Thomas asked, remaining focused on his carvings. He was a little too focused on his project, now.

"I would like to ask for your sister's hand in marriage. Do you approve? Will you allow me to marry your sister?" Vlad asked, surprising Thomas yet again.

Thomas's answer came delayed, making him look hesitant and uncertain. All he could think about was his sister's growing fondness for the man, and where her fondness might lead them both.

"That is wonderful news. I approve wholeheartedly," Thomas finally said. "This news should certainly please her."

"Wonderful. I thank you," Vlad smiled and he stepped in closer to Thomas once more.

"Do not forget my words, Thomas. You hold a promising future in your hands. It would be a pity to see such talent wasted," he added quickly, but as he turned to leave, he saw Lucille standing at the door.

She held a metal serving tray in her hands, with a gorgeous china tea set sitting on top of it. She entered and quickly set it down. For a moment, Thomas wondered if she had heard his conversation with Vlad, but she didn't appear to be aware.

Good.

"You are both rather talented. I dread to see such talents wasted," Vlad said.

"Your words are appreciated. Thomas is highly skilled, I do agree," Lucille said proudly. "I made tea. Would you care for some, Vlad?"

Suddenly, Lucille was hit with a pang of guilt, and as much as she tried to suffocate it, it continued to scream at her desperately. It begged her to reconsider. It insisted that she might actually be able to escape her life of squalor and struggle if she let him live. And for the first time ever, she entertained the idea of escaping Allerdale Hall, which scared her beyond belief, as Allerdale was all she ever knew. It was all she had ever wanted to know.

This tea was not poisoned, but if they married, Lucille would have to enact _that_ stage of the plan. And thinking about it did not make her feel good at all.

"My apologies, dear. I am afraid I'm not in the mood for tea," he answered her regretfully, though Lucille barely heard his words. She was too focused on her guilt. Remorse was something she had not felt in years, and yet there it was, following her like a shadow.

"Very well," Lucille said, stifling any and all emotion in her voice. "Thomas?"

"Not for me, thank you," he answered. Thomas was casual and calm, though she could tell that he, too, was thinking about the plan.

"Very well. Such a waste. I suppose I will take this back, then," she sighed but before she could pick up the tray, Vlad moved to take it.

"Allow me," he smiled, causing her to shake her head adamantly and hold out her hands.

"I can't allow you to do that," she argued, in a way that was perfectly composed. However, Vlad would not relent, keeping a firm grip on it.

"You're our guest." Lucille reminded him.

"I do insist," he laughed, and he started to walk away with it, prompting Lucille to follow behind him. Thomas was left alone to think about the path he was taking with his sister. Where would it lead?

***

A song rang out from the library, and drifted down the many shadowy halls of Allerdale. Lucille played the piano effortlessly, as she sang her sweet, haunting lullaby and lost herself to the melody. Vlad's heavy footsteps did not stop her, though she could feel his eyes on her back, and thought she heard him chuckle.

"Do I amuse you?" She stopped singing to ask, though her fingers continued to work their magic.

"Not at all. I was merely admiring your beautiful voice," he said, and that immediately made her stop playing.

She struggled with the idea that her voice could be 'beautiful'. Nothing about Lucille Sharpe was beautiful, and so his words immediately made her wonder if he was lying. And for what reason? But when she turned on the stool to look at him, she saw a genuine look of admiration, and that just made things worse. This would all be so much easier if he was lying. She felt his hands settle upon her shoulders, and felt his fingers gently knead and massage her through the blue velvet of her dress. She couldn't help the soft little groan that sounded from the back of her throat, and she barely thought about the way she was leaning into his touch. The usually tense Lucille allowed her shoulders to relax, and she drew a shallow breath. She let her arms drop into her lap, enjoying the way his hands rubbed over her back. He leaned in, kissing her cheek and biting at her ear playfully, as his breath tickled her skin.

"Marry me, Lucille," he whispered.

His hands slid down her waist and his lips peppered cool kisses along her jaw. "I can't imagine a life without you in it."

Lucille's breath hitched. His touch made her practically ache with a need that was shocking, and frightening, but also electrifying, and she craved more. An uncontrollable desire flowed through her veins, and she purred, placing her hands on top of his and guiding them up her corseted abdomen until they cupped her breasts.

"Of course," she gave a breathy whisper, before turning her head to peck his lips with her own. Thoughts of Thomas flooded her mind again, and the guilt hit her like a hammer. This wasn't right. What if Thomas saw?

"But let us not get ahead of ourselves. We are not yet married." She released his hands, and he respectfully let her go, taking a bow and joining her on the stool.

"Understood, my love," he whispered apologetically.

He kissed her hand, and guided it back to the piano keys.

"Please. Let me hear your song once more."

"As you wish," Lucille answered him, and her hands began to play that soft, melancholic melody again. The song seemed to carry with it all of Lucille's sorrow and agony, and it was amplified when she began to sing. Every emotion that she kept tightly bound inside of her spilled out in her song, carried by her words. She could tell that he was watching her, but she didn't dare look at him as she feared that he would be wearing the face of a man who was in love. And in love with her, of all people. When she finally stopped, he clapped for her, and pulled an ornate leather ring box from the pocket of his waistcoat. He opened it, revealing a gorgeous gold ring, encrusted with rich, red garnets. He delicately took her hand into his, and gave her a smile, slipping the ring onto her finger. It all felt rather surreal to her, like some kind of strange dream. She thought she felt herself blushing, and she was suddenly smiling in a manner that was especially rare. Such a smile had not been seen in a long time. Longer than she could remember, really. It was not an ecstatic smile by any means, and it was still as tight-lipped as ever. But it was real, and it lightened up her features in a way that no one but Thomas had ever witnessed. Vlad leaned in and kissed her once again, before he finally stood.

"I must retire to my room, but we shall discuss this further, at a later time."

***

"And this was around the time that Thomas fell ill, was it not?" Edith chimed in, idly swirling rich, red blood around in the crystal glass she held in her hand.

Lucille sipped from her own glass, and made a noise of confirmation as the sweet liquid slid down her throat.

"Oh, yes. He fell quite ill. Of course, we now understand why, but at the time, I was very afraid for him," Lucille frowned, reflecting on those memories. "I was also feeling poorly, but Vlad chose to weaken Thomas more."

"At first, Lucille attempted to care for me, but she too was growing weak. Vlad stayed to help us both," Thomas added, wiping a droplet of blood from Edith's lips with his finger.

"And of course, you did not know his true intentions..." Edith said, to which Lucille shook her head.

"Not at all. Not until he revealed everything, on that bloody and monstrous evening," Lucille spoke with contemplation.

"The night I learned that not all monsters are human..."


	6. In Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The monster reveals himself...

**Chapter 6  
** In Death

Sickness had come to Allerdale Hall, or so the siblings thought. Thomas’s skin had grown pale and clammy, and beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. He lay in bed, taking long and drawn out breaths; he was practically gasping for air between raspy coughs. His eyes were closed, and his head was propped up with a number of soft pillows in an attempt to make things a little more bearable for him. Seeing him in such a state frightened Lucille to no end. He had grown so ill, so very quickly, and Lucille immediately began to fear for the worst. Never had she seen him _this_ ill, and she couldn’t lose him to sickness. If Thomas died, she wouldn’t know what to do. Without him, she was dead. There would be no reason for Lucille Sharpe to continue living.

But within hours she, too, began to feel ill again. It wasn’t quite as severe as Thomas’s own illness, but she could feel fatigue and weakness plaguing her body, and she began to wonder if they would die together. Was this how they would leave this world? She had hoped that they would live out their days in a restored Allerdale Hall, for years to come, but if they were to die now, then she wouldn’t fight it; she was happy as long as they were together. Perhaps it was their time.

Lucille sat by Thomas’s bedside, dabbing his forehead with a cold, wet cloth. She hummed to him the lullaby she used to sing when they were children, but she didn’t know if her song was heard. He didn’t react, but she hardly expected a reaction from him when he was in such a state.

“Thomas…” she whispered, looking down at his pale, sickly face with a motherly concern.

“How is he?” she heard Vlad ask from the doorway, and she looked up at him with tired, tearful eyes. That said more than words ever could. He crossed the room, and sat behind her, draping his arms around her waist.

“You shouldn’t touch me, Vlad. I fear I’ve fallen ill as well,” Lucille warned weakly, but he didn’t listen. He touched his forehead against her shoulder, seemingly unafraid of the mystery illness that had so suddenly hit the Sharpe siblings.

“Then you must rest, my love. Let us go to your room. I will take care of you both,” Vlad insisted, but she wouldn’t budge; all she could do was watch Thomas. He occasionally murmured under his breath, though she couldn’t understand his words. The poor thing was delirious.

“I can’t. He needs me,” she argued weakly, dabbing Thomas’s forehead once again.

Vlad gripped her shoulders, and pressed a kiss against her cheek.  
  
“He needs you to be well, dear. You will not get well, if you don’t rest,” he answered, and this time, he took the cloth from her. But she didn’t fight him; he was right, after all. She let him pull her up, and she leaned against him, lethargically, as he started to walk her to her room in the attic. On the way there, neither of them spoke. She listened to her own, occasionally raspy breaths, and when she opened her mouth to speak, she simply couldn’t think of the words to say to him. She was far too tired.

The door to her room was wide open; her bed, which was usually so neatly made, was a mess of blankets and sheets from where she had tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Her dresses had been draped over the mirror. Lucille hated mess, but she barely had the energy to tidy up.

Vlad walked her over to her bed, and helped her lay down. He adjusted the pillows for her, and draped the sheets and blankets over her weakened body so she would be warm. She was watching him tuck her in; her eyes reflected desperation and frustration. She still wanted to tend to her brother; she didn't want to lay down and rest until she knew he was better. But Thomas would want Lucille to gain back her own strength. That much was true.

Minutes after her head touched the pillows, she closed her eyes, and fell into a deep slumber. She was languid for what may have been days, drifting in and out of sleep, and each time she closed her eyes, another terrible dream plagued her. She saw her own lips, coloured red with blood that drizzled down her chin and splashed her bare skin. She saw herself crawling on top of Thomas, licking blood from his chest as her hand stroked his cock and their enraptured moans filled the candlelit room. She saw herself and Thomas biting the throats of hapless strangers; they fed from them like blood-crazed parasites and then tasted each other's lips in a frenzy of hunger and lust. The sight of blood itself never shocked her, but the idea of consuming it did. That was the horror that made her awaken with a start each night, covered in sweat. And there was always an odd, coppery taste in her mouth that reminded her far too much of blood, and that worried her even more. What manner of illness had she contracted?

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at the ceiling for the longest time, listening to her own, quickened breaths. It was evening, and she could feel the sweat dripping from her forehead; her body trembled and ached. She felt _cold_ , despite the blankets that covered her. And though her mind felt foggy and fatigued, she immediately thought of Thomas. It didn’t feel right to neglect him. Her bare feet padded softly against the floorboards as she drifted through winding halls and made her way to her brother.

But she certainly did not expect to find the scene before her, when she opened the door to his room. She saw her Thomas, naked from the waist up; he was out of his bed, and standing so close to Vlad that they were practically touching. Vlad’s hand cupped his cheek, his thumb grazing over Thomas’s skin affectionately. His lips were a mere inch from Thomas’s own. Had she entered seconds later, she would have stumbled upon a far more intimate scene, for sure. Both of them heard the door creak open, and they slowly turned to face the stunned Lucille. Thomas wore a look of guilt, while Vlad smiled a cruel, knowing smile; he expected this and he _wanted_  this. She could tell. Lucille raised her chin, her eyes wide with rage and horror. Her blood ran cold at the sight of the two of them together. What kind of game was he playing? Did he intend on toying with her heart while seducing Thomas, all at the same time? Seeing this hurt her in ways she didn’t want to acknowledge. This was the pain that always came with love. This was the price she had to pay for giving her heart to him.

“What is the meaning of this?” Lucille took a deep breath, trying to keep herself composed, even as her hands shook and her face grew hot with anger.

“Thomas and I were having a brief discussion,” Vlad smiled at her, though it was far from innocent. He seemed amused by her anger, which did nothing to calm her down.

“A discussion,” Lucille repeated, her voice cold and unwavering. She slammed the door behind her, and saw the way the sudden noise made Thomas flinch. She pretended not to care.

“Indeed, my love,” he said, and Lucille practically sneered. Suddenly, his sweet words made her feel sick with betrayal, and she couldn’t stand listening to his voice. He couldn’t have Thomas. Was she not enough for him?

“Both of you are so very dear to me,” Vlad said, and Lucille noticed the slightly menacing tone in his voice. Thomas broke away from Vlad and skittered to Lucille’s side, though when he tried to touch her arm, she recoiled, quickly pulling away before his fingers could even brush against her nightgown. It hurt her, to see Thomas’s pained and guilty face, but it felt justified too. In Lucille’s mind, he had betrayed her. Or, rather, he was about to betray her.

“And I would hate to tear you apart. The two of you… you are so very close,” Vlad continued, and the glint in his eye told Lucille that he _knew_  something about them.

It was a look that stirred uneasiness inside of her, and she could feel her heart beating faster with each step that Vlad took towards them both. And her beloved Thomas stepped out in front of Lucille, like he was trying to protect her. She wondered if he was trying to make up for everything Lucille had done in the past to protect _him_.

“I would never stand between you. That would be a tragedy.”

He was getting closer. Lucille’s breath hitched and she suddenly gripped Thomas’s shoulder so tightly that he winced. The siblings both sensed that something was very wrong. There was a darkness about the man before them that they had never seen.

“I’m afraid I don’t follow,” Lucille finally spoke up, canting her head. She couldn’t hide her anxiety from him, her mind racing as she analysed his words over and over again. Thomas and Lucille hadn’t shared any intimacy at all, since Vlad’s arrival, and they were always so careful in public during their trips to London, so Vlad couldn’t possibly have been making reference to their relationship. And yet, that was exactly what it sounded like.

And suddenly, Vlad’s fingers touched her chin, forcing her to look directly into his eyes, and she froze up, unable to move from where she stood. His touch felt even colder than usual. He leaned in, whispering into her ear.

“My dear Lucille. He _is_  perfect, is he not? I cannot fault you for loving him so very much.”

“You couldn’t know-,” Lucille said, her soft words trembling with both confused horror and rage. How did he know? And exactly how much did he know about the two of them? Blindly, she reached out to grab anything that might serve as a weapon. They had claimed no money from him, but he knew too much. Lucille had to dispose of him, immediately. Her shaking hand grazed a porcelain teacup, but Vlad’s hand shot out before she could take a hold of it, and he gripped her wrist so tightly that she practically whimpered. And Thomas thought he could help her. Poor Thomas. He tried to free Lucille’s arm but found himself unable to move as soon as he met Vlad’s gaze. His body refused to cooperate with him. It was as though he could no longer control himself.

“Hear me, Lucille. Hear me and understand. I _know_  but I do not care. I would not stand between the two of you,” he told her, with a smile that appeared to be genuine, though it still held a chilling menace to it. He released his grip on her wrist, and caressed her cheek.

“I only ask that you let me in. I would take care of you both, and you would no longer struggle. You would be free, from the trapping of this life,” he added, brushing loose strands of dark hair from her face. “Is that not what you want?”

“I do not feel trapped,” Lucille spoke defiantly, though she didn’t sound terribly confident at all. “Thomas and I have been perfectly happy.”

“Have you?” Vlad chuckled. “Well, my love, I can make it better. But you must trust in me.”

“You haven’t told me how you know,” Lucille said. His words were enticing. He certainly knew how to woo her, with sweet promises of a life free of struggle and fear. That was what she craved the most for herself and for her sweet Thomas. A world where they could love each other, and live comfortably. Vlad was offering that. He said he wouldn’t stand between them, but how did he even know about their secrets?

“You will understand soon enough,” Vlad replied cryptically.

Whatever held Thomas back promptly released him at that moment, and Vlad turned his gaze to him. Lucille watched, pensively, and when Vlad grinned, she swore she could see his incisors elongate, becoming long, beast-like fangs. She wondered if her eyes were playing tricks on her, but then Vlad gripped Thomas’s hair, and tugged on it so Thomas’s head tilted sideways. He screamed and Lucille desperately wanted to help him, but this time _she_  found herself unable to move. Her feet were firmly planted to the ground, and she couldn’t so much as lift a finger. She couldn’t even cry out as she witnessed Vlad dip his head down, sinking those monstrous fangs into Thomas’s neck. She saw blood trickle down Thomas’s perfect, unmarked skin, and was forced to watch Vlad drink from him. Lucille’s heart had hardened to many things, but this was more than enough to shock her. She was witnessing something that was never meant to exist in real life. The creature that came to mind existed only in stories; she was reminded of those dreams that had haunted her over the nights but she was too horrified to make any solid connections.

Thomas’s body grew limp, his eyes half-lidded. A low groan sounded from the back of his throat. And somehow, Lucille heard Vlad’s voice in her head, speaking calmly. Lovingly. Almost apologetically.

“Do not be frightened. This is my promise to you, my love. Eternal life, with your brother. With me. I will give you the world,” he said.

She saw him pull away from Thomas, his mouth dripping with blood. She watched him gather Thomas into his arms, and carry him over to a chair. And as he lowered Thomas into it, with a surprising tenderness, Lucille gained control over her body once again. A tear rolled down her cheek, and her heart pounded furiously, as she tried to make sense of everything. As she saw her brother, on the verge of death, slumped over in that chair, Vlad’s voice sounded in her mind again, telling her to go to the bed. She did so, though she appeared to be in a daze. It was madness, all of it. Her heart wanted to deny what she saw, but her mind couldn’t forget. She crawled onto the bed, sitting on her knees. She watched Vlad join her, and didn’t try to pull away when he placed his hand on her shoulder, and brushed a finger over her lips.

“My darling… I have longed for you both,” he whispered, and before Lucille could react, he pulled her into his arms, and sunk his teeth into her throat with a sudden ruthlessness that made her tense up. A muffled whimper escaped her lips, and her hands desperately gripped, clawed and scratched at his back. The pain startled her, but as the seconds passed, it quickly turned to an irresistible ecstasy. He grunted and moaned hungrily, draining her blood from her gradually weakening body, and she gasped and whimpered, losing herself to his dark kiss. Her head felt foggy. Heavy. She closed her eyes and seemed to forget where she was, drunk with a pleasure that was both familiar and alien. But then she heard his voice, urging her to drink, and an insatiable smell flooded her senses. A dark urge pushed her. Enticed her. Something wet touched her lips and they parted, her tongue lapping up the sweet taste. And she needed more. She open her eyes; she saw a weeping, scarlet gash on Vlad’s wrist, and she ran her tongue over it without even thinking. His voice urged her on, his wrist pressed against her lips, and she began to drink ravenously, like she hadn’t quenched her thirst in days. It seemed impossible to stop. The taste was so addictive. So sweet. Vlad seemed amused by her hunger, and by her pleasured groans. He seemed more amused when she pulled away and violently threw her head back, opening her mouth to reveal long, sharp fangs. She ran her tongue over her teeth and her bloodstained lips, and cried out, feeling a terrible ache in her chest. She was dying. She could feel herself dying, and that was when Vlad took her into his arms and held her.  
  
Everything went dark.


	7. Monsters and Shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucille and Thomas must adapt to their new nature.

**Chapter Seven  
** Monsters and Shadows

The siblings clung to each other, desperate for warmth and comfort though neither of them could provide it; their hearts had ceased to beat, and yet somehow they were still alive. They both sat on their knees, on an unmade bed that was stained with their own blood. The younger Sharpe kept his face buried against the neck of the eldest; she stroked his hair in turn, and gently rocked him like a mother trying to calm a frightened child after a particularly horrible nightmare. He held on to Lucille, refusing to let her go, and it truly felt as though they were children again, afraid and seeking comfort from each other. Back in those days, she would hold him when he was frightened, and whisper promises of protection and love, but she couldn’t protect him, this time. She could do nothing to quell his fears; all she could do was wrap her arms around him, and cradle him, softly humming that sweet and intimate lullaby of theirs as though it might make everything better. It didn't. She despaired over Thomas's lack of warmth; he was so very cold, and his skin no longer carried that lovely, pink blush of life; he was deathly pale, and so was she.

She lifted her gaze, and saw the monster watching them from the shadows. He was still, and he was patient, giving them time to come to terms with what had just happened to them. He didn’t wish to interfere. He wanted to watch them, and see how they’d cope, refusing to speak until he was properly acknowledged by them. This was, perhaps, one of many tests. He wanted them to prove to him that they were truly worthy of his blood, and he would find that out soon enough.

Fear immediately struck Lucille when she met the monster’s dark gaze, which seemed to glow a menacing red in the darkness, but the elder Sharpe also felt an odd sense of wonder and intrigue. Her eyesight was so much keener now. She could see details and patterns that her human eyes had never been able to perceive. She could hear the tiniest creaks and groans within the house, and even the subtle flutter of moth wings reached her ears. Her sense of smell had grown sharper too; she could smell the drying blood that had splattered against the pillows and sheets and she could even tell that the blood belonged to two different people. Her heightened senses had felt overwhelming and frightening at first, but now she found herself fascinated by them.

She shifted her attention back to her beloved brother. Thomas finally lifted his head from the crook of her neck, and Lucille’s shaking fingers grazed over his cheek, as she looked directly into those unnaturally blue eyes of his. Lucille’s own eyes had taken on a far more vibrant shade of green; an equally unnatural shade that was both alluring and mildly unsettling.

“You were following us. Hunting us,” Lucille said to Vlad in an almost toneless voice, though she never stopped looking at Thomas; she couldn't look away from him. Her fingers traced his lips and he closed his eyes, savouring her tender touch. His hand touched Lucille’s wrist in response; his fingertips grazed her skin and this made her shiver. They were exploring each other. They were trying to make sense of everything. Vlad’s dark kiss had opened an entirely new world to them, and it would take them quite a while to adjust.

 “I was,” Vlad replied simply, with a smile. He pushed himself off of the wall, and slowly approached the pair with a powerful and terrible grace. The air itself seemed to grow colder with every step he took towards the pair; shadows seemed to move unnaturally all around him. The darkness itself quivered in his presence.

 “For how long?” Lucille questioned without hesitation, finally looking at Vlad again. Despite her fear, she boldly looked him directly in the eye, and Vlad seemed to admire that. Lucille did not cower in the face of danger; she looked straight at it, and demanded the truth. That was a good trait to have. She took Thomas’s hand, and blindly pressed her cold, pale lips against his knuckles; she felt Thomas watching her face as she spoke, questioning her beloved monster with a commanding calmness that didn't surprise her brother too much.

 “For long enough,” Vlad answered cryptically, and Lucille could only nod, pursing her lips together to show that she wasn't entirely satisfied with his response. He clearly didn’t plan on telling them. Perhaps he never would.

“Why?” Thomas finally asked, daring to meet Vlad's domineering, intimidating gaze. Of the two siblings, Thomas seemed to be the most withdrawn, and the most visibly shaken. But there was a strength inside of him that Vlad could see, and even Lucille could see it. Thomas depended upon Lucille, that much was true, but Vlad was confident that Thomas would cope. Vlad would guide him, and Lucille would undoubtedly help her brother as well.

“Oh, I learned of your story many years ago, Thomas. I learned of the things your dear sister did for love,” Vlad answered, and his smile only seemed to grow wider with each word that he uttered. He seemed to be silently recalling everything he'd learned about the pair, and that information seemed to amuse him.

“I have ways of learning human secrets… I will teach you those ways, in time,” he added, and Lucille believed him.

Vlad sat on the bed, and held out his hand, though he didn't dare touch either of the siblings. He would wait for them to come to him; he needed them to open themselves to him again. Hesitantly, Lucille placed her hand in his, and Vlad lifted it to his lips, kissing it just as she had kissed Thomas moments earlier.

“Both of you are special. You are survivors, capable of things that would shock the average human. And so, I believed you both to be perfect companions,” Vlad told them, reaching out with his other hand to run a cold finger over Thomas’s pale lips. Now, both siblings were giving him their full attention. Vlad noticed the way they held each other's hand, as though they feared losing each other if they let go for even a second.

“My beautiful, dark children. I shall teach you everything you will ever need to know,” he grinned, before kissing Thomas hungrily. And after a second of hesitation, Thomas eased into it, growling huskily against Vlad’s lips. Lucille’s breath hitched at the sight of the two men kissing each other so lustfully, and she still felt a pang of jealousy despite Vlad’s words of love and passion. She was so very possessive and protective of Thomas; she had never liked the idea of him kissing another person. The thought alone made her stomach turn. Thomas was _hers_ , and she was  _his_ , but she realised that their world had changed. Vlad promised them money, comfort, and safety, and all he wanted in return was a place in their hearts. He didn’t wish to separate them; they had no reason to feel guilty, or hide in the shadows around him. Lucille could certainly _try_ to accept their new arrangement, but even as her heart ceased to beat, she wondered if she’d ever truly accept it; her jealousy and her love for Thomas burned and ached like nothing else, and watching him engaging in such an intimate act ignited that fire. Vlad seemed to sense her jealousy, and he pulled away from Thomas to claim _her_  lips instead. She could feel Thomas peppering light kisses along her bare shoulder and neck; Thomas’s hand settled upon her stomach. Vlad dipped his head down and kissed her neck as Thomas licked and nibbled at her shoulder, and a low groan escaped her lips in response. The attention the two men suddenly gave her eased her fears somewhat. It quelled that jealous fire in her chest.

“I’m _famished_ , Vlad,” she whispered desperately, as though she’d been deprived proper nourishment for years. “Teach us both how to hunt, my love.”

Her words pleased Vlad; he grinned against her shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“In time, Lucille. In time,” he whispered, before claiming her lips.

 ***

Vlad would not take them hunting on the first night; he insisted on bringing their first meal to them personally, just as a bird might bring a struggling worm to its young. They were not ready to leave the nest. Not tonight. He had too much that he needed to teach them.

He was not gone long at all, and when he returned, he returned with a fresh-faced man in tow. He looked young; he was probably eighteen or nineteen, at most, with a face covered in freckles and a head full of rich, red hair. The boy’s wide, green eyes were glazed over; evidently he was in some kind of trance.

When Vlad entered the room with his captive human, he saw Lucille straddling Thomas on the piano stool. She was gently nibbling his throat, her tongue hungrily lapping up rich red blood. Thomas was caressing her thick, dark hair lovingly, as pleasured moans and sighs sounded from the backs of both their throats. The siblings only stopped when they heard Vlad come in; they were immediately alerted to the scent of human blood, flowing through the boy’s veins, and it was the most alluring, insatiable scent in the world. Lucille pulled away, looking over Thomas’s shoulder with those predatory, unnaturally green eyes. She growled in a way that sounded more beast-like than human, and whispered in Thomas’s ear, alerting him to Vlad’s presence, though Thomas was already more than aware.

She stood. The siblings turned to Vlad and Vlad could see the tinge of red that coloured both Lucille and Thomas’s eyes. They had been tasting each other in Vlad’s absence. The sight made him smile. Lesser fledglings would have devoured each other in their hunger, but these two were strong. Their bond seemed unbreakable, which made Vlad all the more confident that he made the right choice embracing the Sharpes.

“Come and drink, my children,” he purred and the siblings made their move. Thomas waited for Lucille to step forward before he moved. Lucille was the obvious leader of the pair; Thomas was as hungry as she was, but he did not wish to drink before her. However, Lucille took his hand and guided him over. Vlad stepped back, watching his lovely children approach the young man with a new and predatory grace. Thomas looked to Lucille, and Lucille circled the boy slowly, like a hungry lioness, biding her time. She could feel Vlad gazing upon her, pride reflecting in his eyes. The woman appeared to be embracing her nature; this pleased him more than words could properly express.

And then Lucille finally pounced; she grabbed the young man by his scrawny arms and she pulled him close to her blood-stained chest; the man looked ahead in stupor. Though his eyes were wide open, the man saw nothing, and his breathing was so faint that she wondered if he was breathing at all. Roughly, she dug her nails into his milky skin, and she dragged her fingers down his arms, nonchalantly tearing flesh open so blood drew forth. He made no reaction; he barely blinked even as blood splattered to the ground and stained his clothes. And Lucille grinned, flashing sharp fangs. She beckoned for Thomas to come forward, and pulled the boy's head back without a care for his comfort, baring his freckled throat; she was inviting Thomas to drink and take his share before she did. The scent of blood was too much for Thomas. It was impossible for him to resist. He bared his fangs and dipped his head down, biting the human’s throat as Lucille grabbed his wrist and bit into it. They both drank ravenously from the human, and Vlad circled them, watching them as a mentor might watch his students.

And soon, the boy fell, lifeless on the cold, hard floor.

"We have killed him, sister," Thomas observed, unable to hide the tinge of guilt in his voice. Meanwhile, Lucille simply looked down upon the lifeless stranger, with no evidence of remorse or concern. Vlad didn't appear to care either; he stepped over the dead human as though he were as insignificant as a dead insect.

"You were hungry, Thomas. Accidents will happen; it is normal for fledglings to get... carried away. Especially on the first night." Vlad said, placing his hand on Thomas's back. Thomas couldn't take his eyes off of the lifeless boy; he wondered if the child had a family. The human’s clothes looked tattered and worn and his face was streaked with dirt; the child was most likely homeless. No one would miss him. No one would come looking for him, or even attend a funeral for him. He was a lost soul. A ghost.

"And now you see why I would not take you hunting this evening. I will teach you how to drink without killing your prey, but it takes time and practice," Vlad added. Thomas nodded. He understood, and Lucille appeared to understand as well. Multiple dead humans, drained of blood, would likely draw unwanted attention.

"If they die, they die. Do not pity the humans, Thomas. We are above them."

Lucille wiped blood from her lips; her skin now had a mild, pink blush to it. Vlad leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, tasting the crimson blood that stained her soft, full lips. He took her into his arms, and buried his head against her neck. She was satiated, and so was Thomas; she could focus again. The hunger had been maddening but she survived it. They both had.

Thomas saw Lucille raise her eyes to her mother's portrait, and his icy blue gaze followed hers. He felt something when he looked at those painted eyes, peering down at the trio. Thomas swore that the painting's gaze looked more severe than usual; it seemed more judgmental, as though Beatrice Sharpe could see them from beyond the grave.

"Look at us, mother, for now we are truly monsters," Lucille said in a way that was almost gleeful; it was taunting and prideful, as though she _wanted_  Beatrice Sharpe to see them. And somehow, Thomas believed their mother _could_ see them.

"Are you satisfied now, mother? Look what we have become," Lucille purred.

There was something lingering in that painting. Thomas could tell. He couldn't see it, but he sensed it; it was old, it was watching, and it was _not_  satisfied at all. It was cursing, and damning them. Perhaps it was mother, hidden in that portrait. If Lucille noticed, she gave no indication. Thomas couldn't tell if Vlad noticed, and he was too stunned to speak up, himself. He feared his new condition might have been driving him mad. Perhaps it was best to look away from the portrait, and stop thinking. He hadn't stopped thinking since waking up from his embrace. He lowered his eyes, listening to Vlad's rumbling laughter. He was whispering something to Lucille, but Thomas couldn't focus on those words.  It was now that he was realising just how tired he felt. This evening had been quite the whirlwind of emotion, and he still didn't know how to come to terms with his new nature. He felt Lucille's hand brush down his arm; he felt Vlad's lips on his cheek, but Thomas carefully pulled away from the two of them, moving to leave the library.

"Forgive me. I need some time alone," he said quietly. Lucille opened her mouth to protest, but Vlad quickly silenced her, with a stern grip on her shoulder. Thomas would be left to his thoughts. Vlad appeared to understand his need for solitude, and he gave a nod; he would respect Thomas's wishes. Lucille worried, as she always did; Thomas was her world, and so naturally, she wanted to follow him and make sure he was okay. However, Vlad understood that this was how some chose to cope with their changes. They needed silence. They needed to be alone. Thomas's heart was not as hardened as his sister's; he needed more time. Vlad took Lucille into his arms when Thomas vanished from their sight. He felt her slender body relax once she nestled up against him; her forehead rested against his shoulder, and her arms slipped around his waist.

"Are you satisfied, my love? Do you need more blood?" Vlad whispered into her ear, and she shook her head gently, looking at him with a weary, red-tinted gaze.

"I'm not hungry. Please, don't concern yourself with that, for now," Lucille answered, sounding as tired as she looked. She brushed her fingers over his face and he nuzzled her hand in turn, before taking her wrist and kissing her knuckles.

"Will we always feed on humans?" she asked, and he nodded. Her eyes glazed over in quiet contemplation; feasting on human blood was still a terrible thought, even to someone like Lucille.

"In time, you will accept it. It will simply become a way of life, for you," he answered, and she believed him. This was a new world for her; there was so much to learn. She would surely struggle, but she imagined she would grow to fully accept her new nature eventually. Unlike Thomas, she needed someone by her side, as she contemplated and tried to accept what had happened to her. They stood by the piano, and he held her, comforting her in silence. On this night, he would stay with her side for as long as she needed him.

He would _always_ stay with her.

 

***

A song interrupted the vampires; all three of them immediately recognised the melody. It was Chopin's _Nocturne Op.9 No.2_ ; Lucille had wanted it as her phone's ringtone and Thomas had helped her find and set it up. He had always been better with technology than Lucille. Lucille didn’t share his passion for it, though she had come to tentatively acknowledge the usefulness of modern devices such as cell phones and computers. Edith shot up from her seat before Lucille could make a move, and she ran over to fetch the phone for her sister, running awkwardly in her heels. She was fast, grabbing the slender device, before running back to the sofa in that same, awkward manner. She handed it to Lucille, and she did so with such an endearing little smile that Lucille couldn't help smiling back. She won Lucille over, every time, even after so many years.

"Thank you, love," Lucille said softly, taking the phone from Edith's hand.

Lucille answered, standing and walking away from Thomas and Edith as she started to speak. It wasn’t like Lucille had anything to hide; she just felt it would be rude to talk on a cell phone in front of the pair. Thomas watched her. Edith took his hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. He was, no doubt, wondering who would call Lucille at such a time. He knew she was busy, writing her entomology papers for the local college, but it was still quite late.

"It was Vlad's number," Edith said in a hushed tone, and then Thomas understood, and he erased his worries from his mind. Relaxed, he turned his attention back to his beloved wife, and stole a kiss from her lips. Edith raised her glass to his lips so he could drink from it; he tasted the rich, crimson blood, and watched as Edith then drank from the same glass. Such a display would have hurt Lucille, long ago; now it made her smile fondly. She loved her family; they were all so very perfect to her. She watched them, as she spoke to Vlad, and once she returned to her two lovers, she wore a smile that Edith simply could not ignore.

"Lucille?" Edith questioned, grinning.

"Vlad will be returning this evening." Lucille said.

"Would you like us to leave?" Edith asked, though Lucille could see that the writer didn't really wish to do so; she wanted to stay, though she would respect Lucille's wishes, if Lucille wanted to be alone with Vlad.

"Don't be silly. Stay. Please," Lucille spoke; her voice had grown gentle and soft. She was, no doubt, looking forward to her husband's return. It had been a year since she had seen him, and though they still communicated via Facebook and phone, it wasn't the same; she longed to see his face, and feel his fingers caress her skin. Edith knew his absence had been hard on her, but that was the way it was, with their kind. They were creatures that did not age, or die naturally, and sometimes they _needed_  time apart, or else they tired of each other. Lucille was the least likely to part from her family, but even she had done it; it was often easy to find her as she would typically travel back to Allerdale Hall, wrapping herself up in the cold shadows, with only the moths to keep her company. Thomas and Edith were more likely to travel the world; Edith would watch the humans, learn about different cultures, and gather inspiration for her novels. And it certainly paid off; her books were selling very well, and that pleased her to no end. Edith had written many books, over the decades, under various pseudonyms. Some of her older works were even being studied in universities, and while Edith was humble and didn’t like to brag, she was still rather proud of herself. It made her so happy to see generations of humans taking pleasure in reading her stories.  

"This is a happy evening," Thomas smiled warmly, as Lucille reclaimed her seat, and set her phone down nearby, just in case Vlad called again.

"It is, indeed. Once Vlad arrives, we shall have more of the vintage. A celebration is in order," Lucille said. "But it will be a while, before he arrives. There have been some delays, apparently."

"Then let us continue our story," Edith suggested, snuggling against Thomas's arm. She caught Lucille glance at her phone again, and chuckled.

“Of course. Because after two years in England, we made our way to Buffalo,” Lucille said. She leaned forward so she could look at Edith, who wore a knowing look on her face. Edith’s bright, amber eyes lit up when Lucille mentioned her place of birth.

“And Buffalo would change our family forever.”


	8. Assurances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Embracing the Sharpe siblings comes with it's own challenges. Thomas struggles to accept his new nature, and Lucille struggles to accept a harsh truth. Vlad must help them both.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, my apologies for taking so long to update. I have lacked the motivation to write, for a while. But I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and I hope I can get the next one posted in a timely manner.
> 
> WARNINGS for this chapter: This chapter contains violence, torture, references to incest and it addresses sexual assault and rape. It deals with Lucille's time at the asylum, and the abuse she endured there.

**Chapter Eight  
** Assurances

 

Accepting their new nature would not be an easy task for the siblings. Vlad understood; he had been prepared for conflict and pain from the moment he’d decided to claim them as his own. It was _never_ easy. Some vampires never made it past the first week, choosing to die again rather than live as an immortal monster. Vlad had to choose his children carefully, and he was _so_ certain that he had made the right choice with the Sharpe siblings. Though, as the evenings passed, he did begin to worry about Thomas. Thomas had become withdrawn and silent, often rejecting even his sister’s loving touch. Thomas Sharpe was a sensitive creature; he could not come to terms with his new nature. Lucille’s heart had hardened so long ago, and she found it so much easier to hunt; she embraced her new nature, while Thomas mourned for his humanity. Thomas had never been forced to kill for their survival, unlike Lucille, and the differences showed. Thomas simply could not bring himself to hunt, while Lucille had become ruthless, within a frightfully short amount of time.

Vlad taught her how to lure humans to her; he taught her how to reach into their minds and ensnare them with her mere presence. And she learned quickly. She was _his_ beautiful monster, but his beautiful monster continued to fear for her brother, and it was having an impact on her efficiency and her growth. Each night, she would bring a human back for Thomas and insist that he feed; reluctantly he would drink their blood, and then, if he allowed it, Lucille would sweetly kiss him, tasting the blood that stained his lips. And sometimes, Thomas would rest his head upon her shoulder, standing in silence as she held him. He fed only because she insisted upon it. He fed, only to appease her.

Vlad would not have Lucille coddle him any longer. He needed to help them both. Without Thomas, he might very well lose his beloved. Thomas also needed to learn how to fend for himself. Lucille could not always be his carer; she would no longer carry the burden for the both of them. She did it in life, and he would not see her do it in death too. It would eventually destroy her.

They were creatures of the night, and creatures of the night needed to be self-sufficient. And one evening, when Thomas was alone, Vlad approached him in his workshop. Thomas sat at his table, silently tinkering with mechanisms and toys, and when he heard Vlad enter, he turned and gave the other vampire a polite smile. There was a teacup sitting on the bench; blood stained the rim and dripped over into the saucer. It seemed Lucille had chosen a different method for giving Thomas his blood, this evening.

“May we talk, Thomas?” Vlad asked, keeping his voice neutral; surprise flashed in Thomas’s eyes, and Vlad could feel the uneasiness that suddenly grew around him. He could see it in the way his smile suddenly vanished and his hands suddenly stopped working on his newest creation.

“Of course,” Thomas nodded, setting down one of his tools; it made a sharp clink as it bumped the china teacup. “But there’s nowhere to si-“

“I do not wish to sit, Thomas,” Vlad interrupted him with that same neutral tone, and he moved in closer; he was roughly the same height as both siblings but his stature was far more intimidating. The way he stood gave the illusion of him being taller and that alone made Thomas feel rather nervous. He had to resist the urge to slink backwards.

“Lucille fears for you. Every evening, she worries for you,” Vlad told Thomas, who in turn seemed to clam up, unable to respond to Vlad’s concerns. He had no words; he loathed confrontation and this wasn’t something he was ready to discuss. He didn’t think he’d ever be ready.

"Do you reject my gift, Thomas?" Vlad asked, though he did not sound angry. He was calm, and spoke like a concerned parent. He didn't want to come off as threatening; pushing Thomas away wasn't what he wanted at all, but he still needed to know what his child was thinking and feeling. However, Thomas couldn't give an answer; the words refused to leave his lips and he seemed to tense when Vlad placed his hands upon his shoulders.

"I took you both, as I knew Lucille couldn't stand to be parted from you. But that is not the only reason," Vlad started, brushing his fingers against Thomas's cheek. "I love you, just as I love Lucille. Lucille is frantically worried for you and so am I. Tell me your feelings Thomas. I shall help you but only if you open yourself to me."

Thomas resisted the urge to look away; he met Vlad’s gaze but when he opened his mouth, the words still refused to come out. He felt foolish, standing there in silence, but Vlad patiently waited. He would hear Thomas’s explanation when he was ready.

"I'm not as strong as Lucille; I've never been as strong as Lucille. In her life, she has seen and felt so many unimaginable things; she has shielded me from so many horrors, facing them all alone," Thomas finally started. Vlad remained silent, listening intently to every word.

"Her heart is strong and mine is weak. I want to stand on my own, but I can't. That is the truth, Vlad. And it's not only that."

"Isn't it?" Vlad raised an eyebrow, silently urging Thomas to continue.

"There was so much I wanted to do when I was alive... I wanted to travel and I wanted to... create." Thomas confessed, and Vlad’s brow furrowed. He gave Thomas a sympathetic smile and reached down to take his hand.

"Your heart may no longer beat, but you can still do those things..." Vlad told him earnestly.

"But Lucille...She would like to live within these walls for all eternity, and I...." Thomas cut himself off before he said too much, but Vlad understood perfectly well.

"I see. You must live for you, Thomas. She can't continue to shield you, and you can't continue to live in her shadow," Vlad replied, in a way that was both sympathetic and stern.

"Do you crave love?"

Thomas hesitantly nodded and Vlad smiled knowingly.

"But it would surely break her heart; I would love her no less but would she understand that?"

"In time,” Vlad answered, lifting Thomas’s hand to his lips so he could kiss it. “I will help you. It is my duty to help you both through this but it will take time. Lucille trusts her own heart and knows that she has room for us both, but she will no doubt fear that she will lose you to a companion."

"She doesn't trust easily."

"No, she doesn't." Vlad agreed. Of course, Lucille had good reason for that. She had been abused for so long, and Thomas had been the only positive thing in her life for years.

"Visit Lucille. Give her your embrace. Quell her heart and, in a few night's time, I would like to take you on a hunt."

Thomas hesitated; he couldn't continue to upset Lucille and Vlad but he didn't know if he'd ever be ready to hunt. The thought of 'hunting' left him feeling cold, for more than one reason. But it was true that he couldn't rely on Lucille forever. Hiding and lamenting his nature would never help him. He was terrified, but perhaps he did need to move forward. There were so many things that needed to change. So many things needed fixing.

"Very well, Vlad. Thank you." Thomas finally replied, allowing Vlad to embrace him. Thomas closed his eyes, resting his head upon Vlad's shoulder, and the elder vampire held him close. He understood Thomas's struggle but he needed him to survive. Thomas had the potential to thrive; he just needed guidance.

***

  
Vlad knew how much the past had wounded his beloved Lucille; he saw how it continued to hurt her, and he saw how she wrapped it around her like a velvet cloak. He knew her history. He had been following the Sharpes for a long time, and he’d witnessed the pain and the torment that the pair had endured; he knew just how deadly they could be, as well. And Lucille told him more stories over time. She bore her soul to him, telling him detailed information about the horror and the violations she had endured while trapped within the walls of that godforsaken asylum. In her candlelit bedroom, tangled in soft, lavender-scented sheets, she clung to her beloved and she whispered her stories. She wept gently; she rarely wept, and never did she do so in the presence of another, but on this evening she cried the tears she’d held back for far too many years, as Vlad stroked her long, dark hair and whispered soothing words of love and empathy. Vlad could feel the fiery rage rumbling in his chest, as she told him what those men had done to her, torturing and violating her while insisting that they were ‘helping’. They hosed her down with water, threw her into ice baths, and they shocked her, all in the name of ‘therapy’. And some of them touched her; they did unspeakable things because they felt they could get away with it. He caressed her, and held her with such tender care and love, but his eyes reflected pure wrath and vengeance.

His poor, tormented Lucille; no one hurt his dark daughter and lived to speak about it. Those vile, foul humans had lived for far too long, already. Vlad dipped his head down and kissed her forehead, his fingers brushing against her soft, blood-stained cheek. He asked for names and when Lucille looked into his eyes, she saw that desire for revenge reflected within them. Revenge would not take away the memories that haunted her, but it would make her world a little brighter. He would bring those men to justice.

And he did.

In that bedroom, he promised her that he would make things right. He held her close, and she closed her eyes, resting her head against his chest. And on the very next evening, the hunt began.

For many nights, the three stalked the area surrounding the asylum like hungry beasts seeking their prey. Lucille named the culprits. Some had since quit, it seemed. But she whispered all of their names, hissing them with a poisonous rage that could not be quelled. They watched, biding their time; they watched through the eyes of insects and rats, until eventually, an opportunity arose.

The first beast they caught was a burly man with surprising strength, and a cruel, hard face; his eyes were cold and his lips were thin and cracked, and when he spoke, his voice was always hoarse and gravelly. The voice made Lucille shudder with revulsion and it made her nauseous; it brought back horrible memories, but she would not run from them. Vlad had taken him to an abandoned warehouse; his arms were raised above his head; his wrists were clasped in cold iron chains dangling from steel piping, and he’d been stripped down completely, naked to the world. It was Vlad who circled him, as the man grunted and grumbled, and murmured under his foul breath. Vlad had knocked him out, and he was finally regaining consciousness. Lucille and Thomas stood in the shadows, watching Lucille’s beloved circle the human, like a hungry wolf. She heard the inhuman growl that rose from the back of Vlad’s throat, and it send a shiver down her spine; she took Thomas’s cold hand into her own, though she noticed that Thomas kept his gaze to the ground; he would not look. And Vlad noticed too.

“Thomas. You must look,” Vlad said. “This beast tortured and tormented your dear sister; you must witness this for her. See this day of vengeance with your own eyes.”

He grasped the man’s jaw, holding it tightly; he forced the man to raise his head, and he did so with such power that he threatened to snap the man’s neck.

“Do you remember her?” Vlad leaned in, whispering into the man’s ear; his words were a deep and threatening snarl. The man just grunted stupidly, still recovering from the blow Vlad had dealt him earlier. And Vlad was far from pleased with that reply; his hand shot out and he gripped the human’s neck; he started to choke him and he flashed a terrible smile, watching the man struggle. The human gagged, his eyes bulging out of his head and his mouth gaping open as he gasped for air.

And Vlad’s voice rose this time, commanding attention and respect. His voice boomed and echoed through the warehouse, making the man quiver and squirm.

“Look at her! Do you remember her!?”

Slowly, Lucille and Thomas stepped out of the shadows; Lucille raised her chin and stood tall, watching him with no emotion colouring her features at all. The man’s heart beat so rapidly that it felt as though it might burst out of his chest. His eyes fell upon Lucille, who stood motionless and cold like a statue. And he shook his head.

“N-no?” the man trembled, his voice a hoarse whisper; it was most certainly the wrong answer. Vlad tightened his hand around his throat, making the man choke and gasp pathetically for air. Lucille didn’t even blink; she silently watched Vlad choke him, and Thomas held Lucille’s hand a little more firmly. The man struggled, desperate for air; he reminded Thomas of a fish out of water, gasping and struggling to breathe. The chains strained against the piping as the man’s knees buckled.

“Try harder to remember. Is it so easy to forget her? Because she has not forgotten you,” Vlad snarled, pushing him back so hard that he nearly stumbled. The chains groaned and the shackles drew blood; he screamed in pain but he received no sympathy.

“Ivan Graves…” Lucille finally spoke. She stepped forward, releasing Thomas’s hand. Thomas’s touch lingered, his fingers grazing over hers before he finally let her go. And he moved in too, like he was trying to protect her. But the moth had no need for his protection, as much as she appreciated it; she still wore no emotion on her face, which perhaps made her look crueler; she stood tall and her green eyes practically glowed, like embers.

“You were never terribly fond of me; I always struggled while you tried to restrain me… I can still feel the sting of your hand against my cheek. And you called me so many terrible things,” Lucille slid in beside him, and this time, it was her hand coiling around his throat. She forced him to look into her cold eyes.

“And then you forced yourself upon me. You… and other brutes, like yourself. We shall come for them too,” Lucille said with a growl, her nails digging into his flesh. “You took advantage of me, and you have no doubt taken advantage of other women.”

Lucille then leaned in closer, so her lips were against his ear, and she whispered with a harsh, and vengeful tone.

“And we are here to ensure that you never do it again.”

Lucille looked to her beloved Vlad, who held a cane in his hand. With a dark smile, the elder vampire held the weapon out to his Lucille. Lucille remained poised and elegant as she took it from him; she flashed him a grateful but poisonous smile of her own. Thomas watched as Lucille’s grip tightened around the cane and she raised it, before slamming it against the man’s back. The human refused to scream; he grunted and his eyes watered, but he would not scream.

And Lucille did it again; she repeated the same motion over and over again, moving with an elegant brutality that moved Vlad, and Thomas both. She poured all of her rage and pain into her actions; tears began to run down the human’s face and when she managed to tear flesh, he finally began to scream; they echoed and grew louder with each blow Lucille gracefully delivered. And when she looked up at Thomas, he saw the pain in her eyes and saw the bloody tears staining her cheeks. She stopped; Thomas took her hand and gently removed the cane and though there was hesitation, Lucille understood what he wanted to do with only a glance.

“It would mean the world to me,” Lucille whispered, and Thomas leaned in, kissing her lips and her blood-stained cheek. Lucille stood back, and this time, Thomas delivered the blow; it was surprisingly hard; the cane broke into two parts and a pleased smile crept up on Lucille’s face at the sight.

Vlad and Lucille toyed with him for hours, before Lucille gutted him, butchering him like one of the animals she’s been forced to slaughter as a child. And gradually, they hunted others and did the same. Vlad saw to it that they were never caught.

While it didn’t take away those terrible memories, Lucille’s revenge did give her a certain kind of satisfaction. That revenge was one of many gifts that Vlad gave to Lucille; it was his proof that he loved her, and wanted to help ease that heartache that lingered within her. But old heartache would only be replaced by new heartache, as the following year proved. Luckily, Vlad was willing to be patient.

***

It was as they both anticipated; Lucille was livid, and refused to see things from Vlad and Thomas's point of view. She was just so frightened of losing Thomas; she couldn't accept the idea of him falling for someone else because surely, she would lose him then. She wanted to believe that she wouldn't be alone and abandoned. And yet she just kept questioning herself over and over again.

Was she not enough for her poor Thomas? Was their love not strong enough? Had she not sacrificed enough?

She was, at least, thankful that Thomas had worked up the courage to speak to her himself. She had felt Vlad’s presence the entire time, however. Vlad would no doubt swoop in if something went wrong.

But it was all out in the open now. Thomas desired a partner. And Lucille feared that they would lose what they had. A partner would surely cause a rift between them, and Lucille had grown so content with their life. Vlad came into their life knowing their secrets, and he accepted them before he had even met them. But Thomas's partner would not know their secrets and may not be willing to accept them. It hurt her to know that he craved the love of another and it hurt even more to know that Vlad encouraged it.

She locked herself away in her bedroom upstairs, and refused to feed for so many nights. She refused to allow anyone inside; Vlad was polite enough to leave her alone, but on the third evening she could feel him invading her thoughts; he was reaching into her mind to check on her, and he was choosing to be very blatant about it. He wanted her to see him and feel him.

She lay on her bed, resting on her back; her chestnut hair was loose, cascading down her form, and her skin was far paler than it had ever been. With her eyes closed and her hands resting upon her stomach, she truly looked like death. She didn't move; she simply lay there, as bloody tears trickled down her cheeks. She remained still, even as she sensed Vlad's presence, and heard his footsteps against her many hoarded rugs.

"You must feed, my darling," Vlad whispered; she could smell the sweet scent of blood but it didn't make her move. It was only when she felt him sit upon the mattress that she opened her eyes. She rolled onto her side; those green eyes of hers were dull and her lips were as deathly pale as her skin. Lucille saw that he held a tea cup, filled to the brim with blood, and he held it out to her. She met his gaze and saw concern, mixed with love. And he also looked so very tired. It was rare for Lucille to feel guilt, but in that moment, it seared her heart. She sat up, taking the cup from him with shaking hands. The scent was intoxicating; she wanted to devour it and the temptation grew as she raised the cup to her lips. But she still managed to drink it slowly and elegantly, despite the desire to give in and drink it all at once.

"I know your fears, Lucille. I know them well. And you must know that your brother will always love you," Vlad said with a soft and calm voice, brushing long, dark strands of hair from her face. She sipped at the blood again, looking at him. She made no reaction.

"You're afraid that your relationship might change; you fear that he might love you less. Am I wrong?"

She slowly shook her head; he cupped her cheek in his hand and brushed his thumb over her cold skin. He knew her so well. Of course he did. He had never told her just how long he had watched her and Thomas but he knew them intimately.

"I promise you, my love, he will never love you less. You are so important to him. But I implore you to try and see this from his point of view."

Lucille drained her tea cup and Vlad took it from her hands, before placing it on the bedside table. He reached out and took both of her hands into his before she could pull them away.

"He sees us together and he feels alone. When we go for our strolls and when we attend our parties, he sees a couple in love. We can show our love in public; we can walk together, with our arms linked, and we can speak words of love for the world to hear. But Thomas cannot. He is alone, and the world notices. He sees us, and longs for a love like ours, my darling."

"I am afraid, Vlad. Once, we made a promise never to fall in love. I... broke that promise, but it is still so difficult for me to accept..." Lucille started, before drifting off. "Is this how he felt when I fell in love?"

She draped her arms over his shoulders and pressed herself against him, nuzzling her face against his neck.

"He accepted us, my sweet Lucille. Please try to accept his own desire for love," Vlad said. "You are not unloved, and you will never be abandoned. I promised this once and I will promise it again."

"You must think me selfish," Lucille responded softly. Vlad did not hesitate to answer her, reaching up to caress her in an attempt to ease her aching heart.

"I am merely concerned. You are both so important to me; I can't bear to see you divided over this," he replied, before taking her wrist and planting a chaste kiss upon her knuckles. Lucille, in turn, kissed his neck, and then grazed her fingers over his own.

"Are you disappointed in me?" she asked him, after a long moment of silence. It was like she was afraid of hearing his response. And again, when Vlad did respond, there was no hesitation.

"I just hope that one day, my love will be enough," he told her, and she pressed herself against him a little harder and clung to him a little tighter; Lucille Sharpe rarely apologised and this was the closest that he would get for now. But he would accept it; he adored Lucille and he had always known that their path would be a rocky one.

***

It took a few more days before Lucille could bring herself to speak to Thomas. She left a note in his workshop, asking him to meet her in her room; he arrived earlier than expected. As Thomas walked through the shadowy hall, Lucille’s black moths fluttered around him, their wings brushing against his skin and his clothes. They almost seemed to be leading him to Lucille, flying ahead of him.

The door was ajar; he saw Lucille sitting at her nightstand, slowly running a brush through her locks. Once Thomas tentatively entered, Lucille set her hairbrush down and stood; he smiled and Lucille moved towards him with quick, desperate steps. But as much as she wanted to hold him, she couldn’t. She reached out, and then immediately pulled her hand away. She was still struggling. More tears had been shed, and she knew that Thomas had wept too, most likely out of frustration. She didn’t want Thomas to feel alone; she wanted him to be happy but she was just so scared. Even now, the stains under her eyes and on her cheeks betrayed the fact that she’d been weeping; she stood tall and poised, but Thomas could see the truth.

Thomas felt selfish; he felt as though he was betraying his sister, but he couldn’t roll over and let Lucille have her way. It broke his heart, but he couldn’t allow it any longer. As Vlad had told him, he would end up caught in a sea of regret if he didn’t stand up for himself and take what he wanted. He would lament everything, and curse his immortality. There was a part of him that wanted to apologise, hold his sister and tell her he was being foolish; that submissive side had been drilled into him for more years than he could count. It was his nature to let Lucille have her way.

Lucille could see that he had been weeping too; she wasn’t the only one with stained cheeks, and that hurt her even more.

“I… Thomas,” Lucille started, and Thomas froze, afraid that she might lose her temper again. But she didn’t; Thomas saw a broken, vulnerable, frightened woman in Lucille. He saw that young girl, trying hard not to cry after taking so many lashings. He saw that girl who wanted nothing but to be held and loved.

“I have been selfish, Thomas,” Lucille added. She winced, as though it was physically painful for her to admit her own fault. She hung her head, and for a moment she looked more like the little girl being scolded by her mother, and less like the confident, controlled woman she was now.

“I understand that now, darling. And I ought to apologise.”

Thomas saw how painful this was for her; it was frustrating for him, and he hurt too but Lucille was clearly terrified. His arms suddenly slipped around her waist, much to her surprise, and her entire body tensed as he pulled her into a tight, loving embrace. She needed a second or two to register what was happening, but she soon relaxed, resting her forehead against his. Thomas loved her so much, but he wasn’t in love with her, the way she was with him. When Lucille had fallen for Vlad, Thomas had felt jealous, certainly, but he had also felt a surprising sense of relief; he hoped that he’d be free to do what he wanted. Was he selfish for thinking that way? He honestly didn’t know. Lucille had done so much for him; she was his sister, protector and lover, but he couldn’t keep living the way he was, trapped in Allerdale Hall and unable to follow his passions. He knew he would go mad, eventually, if he did. But until Vlad appeared, Thomas hadn’t felt strong enough to resist or fight Lucille; how could he do that when Lucille had done so much for him? He had struggled with his feelings for years, and Lucille’s whispered admission brought him relief. It also brought him guilt, as he couldn’t bear to see Lucille in pain.

“Lucille, I… I’m sorry. You have done so much…” Thomas started, cutting himself off once he realised that he was retreating; he was opening a door, and giving Lucille the opportunity to guilt him and hold him back again. And Lucille saw that opportunity. She knew what she could have said, but she refrained. Instead, she held him a little tighter, and kissed his cheek.

“I fear that I have suffocated you; Vlad has shown me so many things. I have prevented you from growing stronger and in doing that, I have hurt you. I should have guided you when we still lived and breathed,” Lucille confessed, blinking away more bloody tears as Thomas cupped her cheek in his hand.

Thomas listened to her confession; though his heart had stopped beating, it still felt so much pain. Now that they were reborn, Lucille was witnessing Thomas’s descent into despair for herself. She saw how much he now relied on her when, as a creature of the night, he needed to fend for himself. And now that she was aware of the impact she’d had on him, she couldn’t help but wonder: What on Earth had she done?

“Oh, Lucille. I can’t let you blame yourself. You only wished to protect me,” Thomas caressed her cheek, his voice cracking as he spoke those words.

Oh, how had they let themselves get to this point? They had trapped themselves in such an endless cycle of despair and anguish; they let their parents hurt them, even after they had passed. And Thomas had made the conscious choice to allow Lucille to take every beating that was meant for him. If only he had been stronger. Perhaps then, he could have stood up to his brute of a father.

“Perhaps we are both at fault,” Lucille responded, brushing her long, elegant fingers through Thomas’s dark locks. “Perhaps Vlad is right; we must… try to change.”

Change. The very sound of that word, as it rolled off her tongue, made her flinch as though it physically hurt her.

“Can we?” Thomas asked hesitantly.

“I don’t know,” Lucille said. “I will admit that I am afraid, but I love you with all of my heart. And I want to see you happy.”

Her lips touched his jaw; both arms slid around his waist again and she held him so very tightly.

“It shall not be an easy journey; I can’t imagine too many would accept our nature, but we will find your happiness. If you will allow me to help,” Lucille said, rubbing her hand over his back with a soothing, circular motion.

“Of course, Lucille. Of course. I shall always value your opinion.”

“You seek a bride,” Lucille said slowly, trying to hide her tension.

“I do.”

There was a moment of silence; Thomas wasn’t sure how to interpret that silence, and he could feel his heart sinking in anticipation and dread. But what Lucille said next caught him by surprise, and he felt that tension immediately melt away.

“Then she must be perfect,” Lucille pulled away, to look directly into Thomas’s eyes; the smile she wore was one of both acceptance and sadness. This wasn’t what she wanted, but she knew she’d lose Thomas forever if she didn’t set him free. Vlad had gently helped her open her eyes so she could see a little more clearly. She had screamed, and wept and denied Vlad’s words, but once she’d calmed, she was able to think rationally.

“She must be intelligent, strong and resilient. In this world, there are far too many vapid little butterflies. And that simply will not do.”

“It may take centuries…” Thomas said.

After all, it had taken Vlad centuries to find the Sharpes. Vlad had been alone for so long. What if Thomas was destined to remain alone for centuries too?

“Indeed. But have patience, dear Thomas. The right one shall appear, perhaps when we least expect her,” Lucille said, pulling away. Her fingers grazed down his arm as she moved towards the bed. She sat on the edge, resting her hands on her lap.

“We ought to talk to Vlad; perhaps we can host some parties… in London, of course.”

Lucille knew they couldn’t host any parties in Allerdale Hall; it was far too run down. But Vlad’s house in London would do nicely.

“Yes, I…Thank you, Lucille. Thank you for understanding,” Thomas said, sitting next to her. Lucille said nothing, but she did lean in, resting her head upon his shoulder before taking his hand. He squeezed it gently, and the two of them sat in silence for the longest time, thinking. Both feared for the future.

They didn’t know what the world would do to them, but Thomas had hope. He had hope, and while Lucille saw only darkness, Thomas saw a light; he would take her hand and he would help guide her to it.


	9. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas starts working on his clay harvester, but struggles to find investors. And then, much to Lucille's dismay, he meets Eunice, and he's told about Buffalo and Carter Cushing.

**Chapter Nine**

The Beginning of the End

Weeks turned into months and months turned into years, and Thomas still could not find love. He did not think of it constantly, but he did feel the occasional pang of jealousy when he went on strolls with Lucille and Vlad, and saw how they often looked at each other. The lovers would walk with their arms linked together, whispering tender words of love and appreciation to each other. The townsfolk who were familiar with the fallen Sharpe family would gossip and speculate at times, as they watched the trio walk by, but all three of them ignored their words every time. Some of those townsfolk seemed rather surprised that someone was courting Lucille Sharpe at all. They saw her as cold, intimidating and unapproachable, so the thought of _anyone_ courting her seemed to honestly surprise them. But Vlad considered her perfect, and felt so very lucky to have found her, after centuries of being alone. They were both monsters, and he would kill anyone who dared to harm her. Speaking ill of Lucille was enough to earn his ire; he would gladly cut out the tongues of anyone who dishonored her name.  
  
But poor Thomas did feel lonely. Lucille would often embrace him after an evening outing, and he would join her on the bed. He would lay with her, resting his head upon her chest. Sometimes, it still surprised him to hear no heartbeat. And despite her soothing touches and her gentle kisses, he still felt alone. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Lucille or Vlad. He did love them, but he didn’t have the connection that the two lovers shared. Oh, how he wanted that for himself.

Lucille suggested that he work on the clay harvesting machine; she wondered if that would distract him and, while they were not particularly desperate for money, she saw it as an opportunity to gain additional income. He agreed to Lucille’s idea, and Vlad encouraged it, providing him with the money that he needed to work on it. After all, in the long run Lucille's suggestion did make sense. And so he busied his hands and his mind, working on the harvester that would hopefully bring them a steady income. Thomas had always been innovative; he was clever and creative, and with effort, he would surely be successful.   
  
Now, Lucille felt relief when he began to focus on his machine; she was in no particular hurry to invite another person into their life and she knew that the fires of jealousy would ignite inside of her once someone caught her dear Thomas's eye. All three of them knew. She had told Thomas that she would step aside and allow him to do as he pleased, but it was far easier said than done.  
  
Thomas worked on his machine and he worked on his toys and devices, putting all of his energy into his creations. Vlad helped, when he could. But, much to Thomas's dismay, he could not entice anyone to invest in his machine. He failed to raise capital in London, Edinburgh and Milan and he couldn't help feeling rather disheartened. He had poured so much time, and so much money into the creation of his machine, already, and he couldn't possibly rely on Vlad any further for funds.

Vlad had wealth, and he was more than willing to share. He believed in Thomas, but Thomas didn’t want to rely on him too much, and he was beginning to lose hope. He was, of course, grateful that Vlad believed in him but his own self-doubt grew stronger as the days passed.   
  
"Shall we travel again?" Vlad asked, one late evening. The two men sat together; Vlad's arm was draped around Thomas's shoulders as they listened to Lucille play her somber music. Thomas had been voicing his frustrations, and as usual, Vlad listened and thought up ways to aid him. Thomas thought back to his biological father. That man would have, no doubt, called Thomas a failure among other things, and he would never have tried to help Thomas. Vlad, on the other hand, wanted to see his dark child grow and he would do all in his power to see both of his beloved children blossom in the shadows.  
  
"We  _will_  find an investor," the elder vampire added, his words filled with determination.

Vlad noticed how Lucille's playing began to falter; the melody slowed, and a couple of significant mistakes told him that she was listening to their conversation. He doubted that she was all that pleased by his suggestion to go travelling. Lucille hated Milan, and so it was no surprise that she didn’t wish to travel anywhere else. Despite the distraction, she continued to play, focusing a little harder on the music sheet in front of her in an attempt to look unconcerned. However, it was already obvious that she was paying very close attention.  
  
Thomas leaned in to Vlad, watching the wall. Admittedly, he felt a little thrill at the thought of travelling again. He hadn’t told Lucille or Vlad, but something had happened recently, giving him a very good excuse to leave England again; he was hesitant to mention it because he didn’t want to ask Vlad for the funds. He also didn't want to upset Lucille, but he  _did_  want to go and see more of the world, and if he could travel and do business at the same time, then that was even better.  
  
"Do not get disheartened, Thomas. We simply need to consider what might have gone wrong, and change it. Edinburgh was only our second attempt. Milan, our third. We needn't stop there," Vlad told him earnestly.  
  
"Where do you want to go?" Thomas asked, and Vlad smiled, cupping Thomas's cheek in his hand.  
  
"Anywhere you desire," he whispered, and Thomas found himself unable to look away from the elder vampire. It wasn't hard to get lost in his gaze. While he was rather intimidating at times, Thomas now knew him well enough to see his warmth and his love, and he welcomed it. He cherished Vlad like he cherished his sister.  
  
"In that case, I did hear of a promising company in America. I thought I could share my ideas, provided I'm granted an audience," Thomas finally admitted. It felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, though it was instantly replaced by another one.

 _What did Lucille think?_  
  
Vlad saw how Thomas slowly turned his eyes over to Lucille's back, like he was afraid of her reaction. Her song never ended but her fingers uncharacteristically stumbled as she played, yet again. Vlad reached into her mind to whisper some soothing words, and as soon as he tapped into her thoughts, he felt her fears and her anguish, relentlessly haunting her and tormenting her.  
  
"Wonderful news. And where is this company located?" Vlad asked, standing to join Lucille at the piano.  
  
"Buffalo, New York," Thomas answered, and that's when Lucille's hands ceased to play. The room grew uncomfortably silent; she turned herself around, watching Thomas with a cold and empty gaze, while Thomas made an effort to avoid her gaze entirely. Vlad joined her on the stool; she didn't pull away when he placed his hand upon her back; she didn’t react to Vlad’s touch at all, her eyes boring into Thomas.  
  
"I also met a woman at the museum," Thomas confessed hesitantly, fully aware that every word that he spoke was like a knife being driven into Lucille's heart, over and over again. Vlad rubbed her back in slow, soothing circular motions; she pursed her lips and closed her eyes, wordlessly begging Vlad to do the interrogating for her; she would surely hurt her brother if she were to do it herself.  
  
"Oh? Do tell me about her," Vlad said. It was a challenge, holding a conversation with Thomas while also comforting Lucille; he needed to console his beloved but he also needed to give Thomas his encouragement. It was not an easy task at all, but he had grown better at it. Vlad silently asked Lucille if she wished to leave the room, and she refused; she would hear Thomas's words for herself. She would not hear the news from Vlad.  
  
"Her name is Eunice...Eunice McMichael," Thomas spoke, keeping his eyes on Vlad the entire time. Sadly, it was far easier to talk to Vlad than it was to talk to Lucille, as much as he loved her. Thomas and Lucille had talked about this, but he still felt like he was betraying her, and she still acted like he was.  
  
"And you are fond of her?" Vlad asked.  
  
"I'm unsure. She seemed especially interested in my title; I don't think it is to be," Thomas answered him, uncertainty clouding his features.   
  
"Ah," Vlad nodded. Thomas wasn't interested in someone who cared only for his title. He was passionate, and sensitive, and someone who only cared for wealth and titles was not someone to whom Thomas was willing to give immortality. In another lifetime, Lucille might have encouraged Thomas to manipulate a woman like that, but they had no need to do so, now that they were with Vlad.   
  
Well, if she only cared for titles and wealth, she would eventually find herself disappointed with Thomas. Vlad's wealth was now the Sharpe's wealth as well; they had none of their own.

  
"But she was kind enough to tell me about the company in Buffalo, so I feel as though I ought to give her a chance," Thomas added, and this made Vlad chuckle; despite Thomas's reservations, he was still willing to try and find the good in her heart.  
  
“You are a good man, Thomas. I hope this journey treats you well,” Vlad smiled. "Very well. I will make the arrangements."   
  
He could see wisps of shadow moving nearby; they writhed and rattled like the tails of a dozen snakes, and he knew that it was Lucille's doing; her anger was beginning to manifest physically, despite her attempts to keep calm; her fear was growing all the more stifling. He whispered more silent, consoling words, but he didn’t know if she heard them at all.   
  
Vlad knew that this Eunice could not be the one. Not only would she need to connect with Thomas, but she would need to be able to handle Lucille. And Lucille would no doubt test her. She would create storms and chaos and Eunice would need to be able to endure it all.

Would this Eunice be able to withstand her? Perhaps it was unfair to judge the woman when he hadn’t met her himself, but he had met too many individuals like her, and they were rarely pleasant.

Time would tell…

***

  
The doorbell chimed, and Lucille immediately rose from where she sat, eager to answer the door. The three vampires all knew Vlad had arrived, even before he rang the doorbell. They were all connected by blood and that connection was strong; they could all sense him and he could sense them as well. Lucille looked to Thomas and Edith, and in turn, they gave her warm smiles of encouragement. Edith reached out, taking Lucille’s hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. Vlad had been gone for a while; Edith and Thomas knew that Lucille had missed him dearly. And Lucille was so very ready to meet him again. She’d been ready for a long time. Lucille squeezed Edith’s hand in turn before letting go, and with quick steps, she disappeared into the shadows. Edith rested her head upon Thomas’s shoulder and placed her hand on top of his.  
  
“I love you,” she smiled, and he leaned in, kissing her head.

“And I, you,” he answered. Their words were as honest and true as the day they had first proclaimed their love to each other. Both of them believed that they were destined to meet; they believed that they were made for each other. He’d had to fight for his love, in more ways than one, and he knew he had Vlad to thank, for being a voice of reason. Vlad knew how to speak to Lucille in ways that Thomas couldn’t. He was Thomas’s voice when Thomas couldn’t find his own.

They had all come a long way. Edith, Thomas, Lucille and Vlad had all grown; they’d been challenged but they had ultimately survived the obstacles in their paths. And there had been plenty of them. Some were much bigger than others. And one of the biggest obstacles had occurred when Thomas met Edith.  
  
Edith looked up at Thomas with love in her eyes. Thomas looked at Edith and knew he was blessed to have her in his unlife. Edith and Thomas could now hear footsteps approaching, but they abruptly stopped. Heated purrs and devilish growls were heard in their place, along with the rustle of fabric, and Edith bit her lip, stifling an amused laugh before leaning in to kiss Thomas. Lucille and Vlad’s love also seemed everlasting; they had suffered and they had fought, and Thomas had often feared that Vlad might eventually lose patience with Lucille, but somehow, the love they shared continued to burn just as brightly as Thomas and Edith’s.

Edith overheard Vlad’s words; he told Lucille that he loved and missed her; he apologised for being absent for so long, and hoped she would forgive him, and she told him that she’d missed him too and that she’d been waiting for his return since the very moment he had departed. Edith began to wonder if she should leave, but just as she was about to suggest it to Thomas, Lucille and Vlad returned to the sitting room. Lucille’s arm was linked around Vlad’s, and the two of them strode in with a confident grace.

Thomas and Edith immediately rose from the sofa, and Vlad’s face lit up yet again upon seeing his other two children; they were all together again, and to Vlad, that was a gift worth cherishing.

“My darlings, I have missed you all,” Vlad grinned, embracing Thomas as though he hadn’t seen him in decades. The hug lingered for a moment, before Vlad broke away and gave Thomas a friendly pat on the back.  
  
“Edith, you are as radiant as ever,” he said, embracing her just as tightly.

“Would you care for a drink, dearest? You have suffered a long journey,” Lucille whispered, but Vlad shook his head.  
  
“Yes, but _I_  will fetch it. Sit and I’ll join you soon,” he said and before Lucille could protest, he was heading towards the cabinets to fetch more blood and some fresh glasses. Though he had intended for Thomas to sit too, Thomas swiftly followed after him, wishing to help. Vlad’s journey had indeed been tiring, and Thomas wouldn’t let him do all the work.  
  
“I haven’t thought of Eunice for so many years,” Edith mused, reclaiming her spot on the couch once again; Lucille was quick to join her, and while sadness colored Edith’s face, Lucille’s completely lacked emotion; Eunice was nothing to Lucille, and she would never pretend that she was.

“From what I recall, she was rather cruel to you. You needn’t dwell on _her_  memory,” Lucille said. “She was only good for one thing, and that was leading us to you.”

“Still, she was Alan’s sister,” Edith said with a quiet, joyless tone. “Poor Alan.”

“I know,” Lucille answered her, before she slipped an arm around her shoulders and softly kissed her cheek, as though doing so might soothe those painful memories that tugged at Edith’s heart. And Edith leaned into her, smiling wistfully.  
  
“Well,” Vlad spoke up, placing a bottle of blood on the table; he set down two crystal glasses and Thomas set down the other two. And it was Thomas who reached for the bottle. With just a glance, he urged Vlad to sit, and Vlad would not argue.  He pulled a single chair closer to the couch, so he could also be seated next to Lucille; now that he was reunited with her, he couldn’t bear to leave her side for even a second.

“Shall we drink to those whom we have lost? Those fleeting, precious human lives?”

“We shall,” Edith immediately answered, and she reluctantly sat up straight to receive the drink that Thomas was offering to her.

Thomas finished handing out the drinks, and then four touched their glasses together before sipping that exquisite, sweet crimson nectar of life.

“To the lost,” Edith whispered, closing her eyes; she visualised all of the humans who had left her over the years. There were so many of them, and they had all touched her heart in different ways.

“We ought to pay Buffalo a visit sometime, darling,” Lucille whispered, running her fingers through Edith’s hair.

“That would be lovely,” Edith agreed, and for a moment, she rested her forehead against Lucille’s own, taking comfort in the other woman’s presence. Oh, how they had grown over the years. Lucille would kill to protect Edith, and while Edith preferred not to take lives, she would kill for Lucille if the situation called for it.

“It was indeed fortunate that we chose to visit Buffalo,” Vlad spoke up, looking at Edith with pride in his eyes; it was no secret that he adored all three of his children; they were all perfect and he was glad that they were able to accept one another.

“As I recall, we arrived in the autumn. We settled down, spent more time with Eunice, and I remember Thomas growing increasingly nervous over his appointment with your father,” Vlad grinned behind his glass. Edith laughed softly, and even Thomas managed a small smile at the memory.

“Yes, it was the only thing on his mind for days,” Lucille mused. “And then, on the day of the appointment, Miss Edith Cushing caught his attention. Our little butterfly.”  
  
“I remember the day so clearly,” Thomas added. “It was quite the day.”


	10. A Moth Meets a Butterfly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three vampires arrive in Buffalo, and Thomas and Edith finally cross paths.

**Chapter Ten  
** A Moth Meets a Butterfly

Contrary to what some individuals claimed, vampires were most certainly capable of walking during the day. Stepping out into the sun’s rays did not grant them a torturous death, though the daylight did weaken them significantly, diluting their powers, and reducing them to human strength. Hence, vampires preferred to avoid the sun, whenever possible. It was, in fact, quite dangerous for them to wander during the day; hunters were growing in number and they were becoming far bolder. They would gladly use the sunlight to their advantage if it meant purging the world of a vampire or two. But as long as Thomas wished to do business with the human world, he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He needed to take the risk and venture out into the brightly lit world of the humans.

It was a lovely day; the sun was shining cheerfully and the sky was cloudless. This was splendid for the people of Buffalo, but the fine weather wasn’t as appreciated by Thomas and Vlad, who were feeling rather weak. One did not truly appreciate their supernatural strength until it was sapped from their bodies, but Thomas would endure it in the hopes that he might be successful, and Vlad would endure it for the sake of his child. Lucille remained at the hotel; she had chosen to draw the curtains and rest in the darkened room, while the two men made their way to the highly anticipated appointment. Earlier that day, Lucille and Vlad had accompanied Thomas on his visit to Eunice’s home; there was to be a party and all three of them were invited to attend. Lucille had agreed to play the piano for them, but only out of politeness. Both Lucille and Vlad did not think too highly of the two McMichael women; they could see why Thomas was so unsure about her. As a couple, Eunice and Thomas would be quite ill-matched; she shared none of his aspirations, and her mother seemed to care only for the reactions that Buffalo’s society would no doubt have upon hearing that her daughter was being courted by an English gentleman. Vlad would not encourage the relationship, and Lucille most certainly would not, either. Thomas sensed their displeasure; they never explicitly told him that they didn’t like her, but neither of them needed to say a word.

“Are you ready?” Vlad asked, placing his hand upon Thomas’s shoulder as they stopped in front of their destination. Thomas clutched his briefcase tightly; he looked every part the handsome stranger, in his old-fashioned but well-tailored suit, and his equally old-fashioned but charming top hat. He had most certainly turned a few heads, on the way to his appointment, though Thomas pretended not to notice.

“I am. I must be,” Thomas answered, and that was a good enough answer for Vlad. The elder vampire placed his hand on his back, giving him a friendly and encouraging pat, and without another word, the two men entered the engineer’s building. Thomas walked with confidence and the grace of a noble gentleman, politely removing his hat as he approached the secretary’s desk. And he was immediately captivated by the beauty of the young woman who sat there, toying with the typewriter. Once she noticed their approach, she looked up at the two men with expressive, dark eyes. Thomas set his briefcase down, giving her a neutral, thin-lipped smile that masked just how intrigued he was by her. She noticed Vlad first, and then turned her attention to Thomas; Vlad stood back, wishing for Thomas to do the talking; Vlad was there as his business partner, and his support, but he would allow Thomas to take charge. It was the only way that Thomas would learn and grow.

“Good morning, miss,” Thomas addressed her kindly. “Forgive the interruption, but we have an appointment with Mr. Carter Everett Cushing, Esquire.”

Vlad could see a small amount of nervousness seeping through his otherwise collected and calm facade. He was convinced that Thomas would do fine on his own, but he would step in, as needed. And he hoped it would not be necessary.

“Goodness, with the great man himself,” the young woman answered.

“I’m afraid so,” Thomas said with a smile that betrayed that tentativeness that was eating at him. He and Vlad reached into their pockets, producing business cards, which she took and read over very slowly.

“Count Vlad Dracula,” she spoke out aloud, before shifting her attention to the other card. “And Thomas Sharpe, Baronet.”

Thomas glanced downwards; Vlad moved in to peer over his shoulder, and saw that he was reading over a manuscript. From what Thomas could see, it appeared to be a ghost story of some sort, though he could see no name attached to it. The woman didn’t notice the two men reading her precious writings, however. She was far too preoccupied by Thomas’s business card. This was Eunice’s baronet, the man that she had called a parasite earlier on. She could see why Eunice was taken by him; the man was the picture of elegance and class.

“You’re not late, are you? He hates that,” the woman spoke, rising from her seat so she could slip out from behind the desk.

“Not at all. In fact, I’m a bit early,” Thomas answered, still reading.

“Oh, I’m afraid he hates that too,” the woman said. She was teasing him. That much was obvious. And she appeared to be hoping to get a reaction from him, but much to her disappointment, she received none. Vlad looked up and chuckled at her, but even he refrained from giving her a response.

Upon hearing Vlad’s deep and gentle laughter, she noticed that Thomas was reading over her manuscript.

“Forgive me, I don’t mean to pry,” Thomas said, picking it up to get a better look at it. The young woman stepped in a little closer.

“But this is a work of fiction, is it not?”

She answered his question with a quick nod, and Thomas tilted his head, turning to the next page so he could take in every word printed on it. It was quite captivating; the author certainly had a way with words, and if Thomas had it _his_ way, he would gladly sit down and read the entire thing.

“Who are you transcribing it for?” he asked her, still unable to take his eyes away from the page.

“It’s to be sent to New York tomorrow, to the _Atlantic Monthly,_ ” she answered, blatantly avoiding his question for fear that he might not approve of her story. She knew it was ridiculous. If she were to become a published author, than plenty of people would see her work so she had to get used to people reading it. Oh, what a daunting thought.

“Well, whoever wrote it is quite good, don’t you think?” Thomas said, finally prying his eyes away from the manuscript. He handed it to Vlad, who began to read it properly. The young lady watched Thomas, her eyes suddenly glistening with pride.

“Really?” she asked him, in a way that subtly asked him to share more of his thoughts. And Thomas glanced at Vlad, who nodded as he set the manuscript back down where it had been resting.

“It’s captured our attention,” Thomas said, and the woman looked very pleased with that answer.

“The author has quite a way with words,” Vlad added, and she practically beamed with delight over the praise.

“I wrote it. It’s mine,” she couldn’t help but confess. She was so very proud of her work, and genuinely appreciative of their feedback, and that made both men smile in return.

“Ghosts…” Thomas said, and she took a deep breath, shaking her head. She seemed to be preparing to defend her work.

“The ghosts are just a metaphor,” she started but Thomas chose not to hear those words.

He continued to smile, taking a couple of steps towards her.

“Where I come from, ghosts are not to be taken lightly.”

And that was most certainly true. Thomas would be lying if he were to deny that Allerdale Hall was haunted; he often sensed the ghost of his mother, and while he could not see or hear her, he just knew that she was there. He occasionally sensed a heavy, suffocating aura of rage and revulsion, and the feeling that he was being judged ran through him. He knew it was her. And there were others as well. There were at least three other ghosts, now residing with them at Allerdale Hall. They were all victims of hunger and bloodlust, usually at the hands of Lucille, on the odd occasion where she’d give in to her monstrous side and devour them completely. Vlad would lightly reprimand her on those occasions, reminding her that it was a terrible idea to leave a trail of bodies behind her. He scolded her like a father might scold a child for eating sweets before dinner. Both Lucille and Vlad were so casual about murder. Lucille's hunger had cost several humans their lives, and this seemed to mean nothing to either of them. And this didn’t sit very well with Thomas.

The blonde woman opened her mouth to speak, but Thomas wouldn’t get to hear what she had to say, as a gentleman’s strong voice rang out, interrupting her.  
  
“Sir Thomas Sharpe,” the man spoke, and when he made eye contact with Vlad, he appeared to frown for just a moment. Vlad, in turn, stood a little straighter, making himself look more imposing. It was peculiar. Thomas didn’t know what to make of it, and neither did the young woman. They could both sense something hostile between them, however.  
  
“ And Count Vlad Dracula. Welcome to our fine city,” the man said. “I am Carter Cushing. And I see you have already met my daughter, Edith,”  
  
Thomas’s eyes flitted over to the young writer, Edith, who met his gaze with fascination and warmth. She was the opposite of Carter Cushing, who seemed to regard the two gentleman with suspicion. Despite his reservations, Carter invited the two men to follow him, and quickly took on a more professional, business-like demeanour.  
  
The room to which the vampires were led was large, and there were at least a dozen gentlemen sitting down, all watching with anticipation. They did not appear to have the same reaction to Thomas and Vlad. Carter appeared to be the only one who was wary of them.

Out of sheer curiosity, Edith eventually followed, carefully slipping through the door just in time to see the young baronet making his proposal. He was calm, composed and he seemed to command the room, which was a good sign. If the man had been nervous before, he most certainly wasn’t anymore. His business partner, the count, was as quiet as ever, letting Thomas do the talking. Edith had an eye for detail, and she noticed that Vlad appeared to be quietly analysing Thomas’s proposal, concentrating on every syllable that spilled from his mouth. And from the way he occasionally nodded, as he stood there with crossed arms and a relaxed posture, Vlad seemed to approve of his partner’s speech. Thomas spoke passionately of his machine, and he described the clay in great detail. This was a man who had prepared extensively, and knew what he needed to say.

But Carter Cushing interrupted.  
  
He asked Thomas questions, some of which seemed rather curt. He was testing Thomas, and Thomas’s answers were, thankfully, professional and composed. She saw that Vlad’s lips were pursed tightly, though he still remained silent. His features only softened when he happened to meet Edith’s gaze; he gave her a nod and a kind smile; she returned it, but found it strangely difficult to hold his gaze for too long. Something about his eyes sent a chill up her spine. She looked away, and focused her attention on Thomas’s model harvester, which hissed and moved in a way that Edith found oddly charming. It surprised her to hear Carter abruptly telling Thomas to turn the machine off. She could read that look on her father’s face; she knew it all too well. He wasn’t at all impressed by Sir Thomas Sharpe’s machine or his proposal.

 “Have you tested it? Full scale?” She heard her father ask, and Edith held her breath,  still silently hoping for Thomas’s success.  
  
“No, but I’m very close, sir. With the proper funding –“

“So, what you have is a toy, and some fancy words,” Carter said sharply, interrupting Thomas before he could finish. She saw Vlad’s back and neck tense; his body language told Edith that he was growing impatient with Carter’s attitude towards them. She sensed that Count Vlad Dracula was a man with a temper; he appeared to reign it in, for the sake of Thomas, but she could imagine him being very outspoken when given the chance.

And Carter continued, mentioning Thomas’s failed efforts to raise capital in three other cities. He spoke of effort, and how the men in the room had risen up through hard work, and not through privilege. Poor Thomas. Her heart truly sunk for him; she could see that he was a creative, innovative man. She saw promise, and she recognised his hard work. That model machine of his alone was evidence that Sir Thomas Sharpe was trying to make his mark on the world. She found herself sympathising with the man; only a day earlier, her novel had been rejected by Ogilvie. She had poured so much effort into it, only to be told that it needed a love story. Edith had been dismissive of aristocratic types like Sir Thomas Sharpe, baronet, but after meeting and speaking to him, she felt something different; she was warming to him.

Thankfully, Thomas seemed to hold his ground.

“I’m here with all that I possess, sir,” he argued, in a way that still managed to be respectful and completely unlike Carter’s biting, unforgiving tone. He continued, and Edith had to stop herself from smiling. Thomas brought up a very good point.

“And with all due respect, sir,” Vlad finally spoke up, his voice surprising the men in the room who had seemingly forgotten that he was even there.

“We too are banking on hard work, and not on our privilege. I can assure you, I am no stranger to hardship and toil,” he moved in closer, moving more like a predatory animal than a human. Carter listened, Vlad’s presence demanding attention and respect, and even Edith felt intimidated upon hearing the man speak. “It is true that my business partner is inexperienced, but your career had a beginning once, did it not? This is _his_ beginning.”

Edith took a deep breath and chose this time to slip outside. She felt as though her presence was somehow hindering their meeting, and she didn’t want them to hold back on account of her. Instead, she made her way back to the secretary’s desk, and continued working on her manuscript, trying to put the two gentlemen out of her mind.

She happened to look up, after several minutes, just in time to see the two of them leaving, and she couldn’t help wondering if she’d see them again.

***

The curtains were still drawn and Lucille’s hotel room was shrouded in shadow. A little bit of light peeked through the curtains, and it still managed to drain a small fraction of her power but she didn’t particularly care; it was her rest time, after an excruciatingly long journey, and she didn’t need her powers. She was sprawled lazily on the hotel bed, still dressed in the blue velvet dress that she had been wearing when she first set foot on America’s soil. She wasn’t exactly comfortable, laying down in her snug gown and her corset, but she almost seemed to take pleasure in the discomfort, oddly enough. Her green eyes snapped open only when she heard the dull but familiar muffle of men’s voices in the room beside her own; Vlad and Thomas had returned from their meeting. Languidly, she sat herself up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed as her hands worked to straighten her hair. It had become unruly as soon as it had touched the soft, lightly scented pillows, and she wouldn’t have anyone see her with unkempt hair.

In the other room, Vlad stood with Thomas, and spoke to him with an urgent tone that Thomas had never witnessed before.

“If you must pursue her, than I implore you to proceed with caution,” Vlad insisted, gripping Thomas’s shoulder tight. “I fear that Carter Cushing may suspect us. He may be aware of our true nature.”

“How?” Thomas replied, incredulously. After all, they hadn’t revealed themselves to anyone. From what he knew, none of them had even fed since reaching America. How was it possible for Carter Cushing to know what they were?  
  
“It is entirely possible that someone has been tracking us. Hunters are bold and relentless things, and there is no shortage of them in this world. They may have warned him,” Vlad said. He brought his hands up and cupped Thomas’s face. “It’s also possible that he is one, himself.”

“I will not allow hunters to touch you. But you must be careful, Thomas.” Vlad promised him with the utmost sincerity. “Edith is indeed beautiful, but she may also be a danger to us.”

For a moment, Thomas felt a sense of inner peace that rarely visited him. He was always worried or guilty, which was bad enough when one was alive, but it was not how he wished to feel for all eternity. Despite the unexpectedly dismal turn of events earlier on, and despite this new talk of hunters, Thomas felt good. But naturally, that feeling was swiftly torn away as soon as he heard the door to their room swing open and slam shut.

“ _Hunters_?!” Lucille snapped, her tone hushed but furious.

“I’m afraid so, darling,” Vlad reached out to touch her but she dodged his hand, refusing to allow it. Her jaw clenched, teeth bared like an angry beast.

“Then clearly we must leave,” Lucille said, sounding utterly desperate. She was livid, but Vlad easily picked up on the fear that laced her words. The mention of hunters had her fearing for them all.

“We can’t,” Vlad told her and her eyes widened, practically glowing now. “Carter Cushing is currently considering our proposal. Thomas needs to gently break Eunice’s heart. If we were to leave abruptly, it would place far too much suspicion on us.”

Lucille fell silent; she pursed her lips together, her eyes begging him to reconsider. What he was saying made perfect sense, of course. And she truly did trust Vlad to look after them. But she also feared the worst, and she immediately suspected that things might have been better had they stayed at Allerdale Hall. At this present moment, it didn’t occur to her that their hunter might have followed them from Cumberland.

She made a dissatisfied sound, knowing that Vlad would not reconsider; the velvet of her dress violently swished against the floor as she spun around, turning her back to them both.

“You had best stay away from Edith Cushing then, Thomas. Your curiosity could very well be our downfall,” Lucille warned, refusing to look at them. She had reached into her brother’s mind and she could see that another woman had caught his attention. Before Thomas could respond, she stormed out of the room.

***

Perhaps it had been a terrible idea to storm out of the hotel, but Lucille had hardly been thinking at the time. They should have stayed hidden within the halls of the Sharpe ancestral home where, Lucille firmly believed, nothing could ever harm them again. They were always safe there, with only memories to keep them company.

The sun’s rays were unforgiving, making her feel horribly frail, but she needed to walk away from Thomas, and from Vlad. She repeated the same words in her head, over and over again: If they hadn’t left Allerdale Hall, they would be safe.

Buffalo was a busy place; its streets were crowded with people hurrying to their destinations, and it was difficult to navigate the city without brushing against others. As fate would have it, Lucille happened to blindly turn a corner only to collide with someone; she saw a flash of gold and heard the rustle of papers as they flew out of the human’s hands and scattered across the ground. Lucille saw the woman crouch down to frantically pick the papers up. For a moment, she hesitated to help; she could have simply walked over those fallen papers, admonished the woman for not being more careful, and went on her way. But then she remembered what she’d seen when she’d invaded Thomas’s thoughts and memories. The stunning blonde woman was Edith Cushing; her hands were desperately grabbing at the sheets of paper, hurriedly attempting to gather them all up before the wind blew pages away or someone trampled on them. Lucille had a role to play in this chapter of Thomas’s life. Like it or not, she had to remain in Buffalo for the time being, and so she had to _try_ and be pleasant.

“I must apologise,” Lucille spoke, crouching down to help gather parts of Edith’s manuscript. “I was distracted.”  
  
“Oh, no. I ought to be the one to apologise. I was in such a hurry to return home, and I wasn’t being careful enough,” Edith said softly, scrambling for one more sheet of paper without looking up at Lucille.

“It would seem that we are both at fault,” Lucille told her, although from the way she spoke, it sounded like she was placing most of the blame on Edith.

Once they had gathered every sheet of paper, Edith breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at the other woman. Her heart jumped in her chest, however, as she noticed that Lucille was reading the manuscript. And what made it worse was that Edith couldn’t possibly tell what Lucille was thinking; the woman was expressionless, and she was scrutinising everything on the page. When Thomas had done it, she didn’t seem to mind so much, but Edith could tell that Lucille was a much harsher critic; the older woman was picking it apart, and while criticism was good, Edith wasn’t certain that she wanted to hear what she had to say.

“Ghosts? A peculiar topic, don’t you think?” Lucille said after a very uncomfortable pause. Edith felt that familiar, heavy feeling in her chest again. The woman hated it, didn’t she? She didn’t sound like she approved of it at all.

“Don’t tell me _you_ wrote this?” Lucille questioned her, and that just made the writer feel worse. Her stomach churned, and she suddenly felt that urge to explain herself yet _again_. The woman was being so condescending. It made her want to deny it just so she wouldn’t have to try and explain her work for what felt like the hundredth time. She was so very tired of explaining herself. But she couldn’t be embarrassed by her own work. There would always be critics, and she had to take the bad with the good.

“Yes, I did write it,” Edith said, with a proud little smile that told the world that she wasn’t at all ashamed of her hard work.  
  
“And actually, the ghosts are a metaphor for the past.”

“A metaphor?” Lucille repeated in a way that made it difficult for Edith to tell what she was thinking. Edith answered her with a nod. A sense of familiarity suddenly hit her, and she couldn’t help staring at Lucille, taking in the woman’s high cheekbones, her chestnut coloured hair and her haunting, green eyes. She took in every detail of the woman’s appearance; she wore a beautiful gown, which would have been stylish over ten years ago; it was still lovely but it was out of fashion and the material was beginning to wear out. Everything about her reminded Edith of Sir Thomas Sharpe, down to the outdated clothes that he wore.

“I don’t mean to pry but… are you acquainted with Sir Thomas Sharpe?” Edith blurted, immediately regretting the question. It was, perhaps, too personal a question, and Lucille didn’t come across as someone who was open to personal questions. However, as she recalled, Mrs McMichael did mention a sister. Much to Edith’s surprise, Lucille didn’t appear too bothered by the question at all. To be fair, it _was_ quite difficult to read Lucille; Edith honestly couldn’t tell if she approved of the question.

“That’s correct,” Lucille answered. “I am Lady Lucille Sharpe, Thomas’s sister. And how are you acquainted with my brother?”

Of course, Lucille knew already. Upon seeing her, it was tempting to lure the woman somewhere and drain her of her blood, but that would have been an extremely unwise decision. With an unblinking stare, she watched Edith, and imagined how her blood might taste.

“Well, truth be told, I only met him today. He had an appointment with my father,” Edith explained, her brow furrowing as she remembered just how harsh her father had been to Thomas. She would, no doubt, address it later. She believed Thomas deserved a chance.

“I’m Edith Cushing. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Sharpe.”

“And I am delighted to meet you too,” Lucille answered, in that rigidly polite, not entirely sincere way of hers. “My brother has poured his soul into his project. I imagine you have also poured your soul into yours.”

Lucille reached out, brushing her finger over the edge of the manuscript.

“It’s true. My dream is to have my work published someday,” Edith confessed. She wasn’t sure that Lucille cared at all. If anything, she seemed rather dismissive of Edith’s work. “Is that silly?”

“Not at all,” Lucille replied, skimming the top page of Edith’s manuscript once again, with that same scrutinizing expression. “The page I saw could do with some revisions, but you certainly appear to possess confidence and drive and those are good traits to have. You are bound to face rejection more than once, after all. It’s not uncommon.”  
  
Lucille didn’t know why she was giving the woman unsolicited advice. She honestly did see potential in Edith’s writing, as much as she didn’t wish to admit it, and in a way, she did admire Edith’s confidence and pride in her work. She seemed determined and ambitious; Lucille wished Thomas possessed those traits.

Edith hesitated; she understood that it was probably a poor idea to get too closely involved with the sister of someone who was currently doing business with her father. However, Lucille seemed quite open to critiquing Edith, and perhaps a woman’s point of view would do her story some good. Ogilvie had suggested a love story, and that was an idea that Edith didn’t particularly like. But what would Lucille suggest?  
  
“Please don’t feel obligated, but if you have time, would you care to take a look at my manuscript? I would love to hear a woman’s opinion on it,” Edith asked, somewhat meekly. She anticipated a ‘no’, especially when there was a long, drawn-out pause between the two of them. Five seconds suddenly felt like five torturous hours.

“Very well,” Lucille agreed, much to her surprise. Edith realised she’d been holding her breath, waiting for rejection, but her entire face lit up when Lucille said yes.

“Thomas and Vlad are attending to their business, and I have precious little to do,” Lucille confessed, though that wasn’t entirely true. She simply didn’t want to be around them. She would have remained in the hotel, if she hadn’t become so angry with them. It seemed almost cruel that she happened to encounter Edith Cushing after hearing that Carter Cushing was potentially a hunter. Of all the people to meet, why did it have to be Edith? The universe was toying with her, surely.

Edith tilted her head, and gestured for Lucille to follow her.

“Let us find somewhere to rest. I know of a wonderful place.”

***  


Lucille was critical and brutally honest, and Edith took notes, accepting every bit of critique from the other woman with an open heart and an open mind. She drank it up, in fact, listening to every word with eagerness and appreciation. They were at a stylish little café; Edith had ordered a lemon tea, but Lucille had declined to order anything at all.  
  
“I don’t drink… tea,” Lucille said to her, and Edith thought nothing of it.

Much to Edith's surprise, Lucille agreed that a love story might add to her novel, but she also suggested that there should be a shocking and unconventional twist. A dark and monstrous love. Horror and pain. Edith listened well and said that she would take it into consideration. Edith noticed that Lucille was a guarded woman, though that wasn’t a difficult thing to notice. She was intelligent and well-read, but she had moments where she would simply drift off, fading away into another world entirely. She was polite but had a sharp tongue. Not that it bothered Edith. Edith was just happy to hear Lucille’s opinion. She didn’t have any close female friends who were willing to look over her work. Her father was too busy to look at it, and Alan’s critique had been far too polite, as though he was afraid of offending her, or crushing her dreams.

Hours passed. Lucille asked Edith about her dreams to become an author; she wanted to understand Edith's aspirations. But soon both women realised that they really needed to part ways. Edith needed to get herself home. Lucille needed to get herself back to the hotel.

“Will you be attending the party tonight?” Lucille asked her.  
  
“No. I… don’t particularly like social gatherings,” Edith confessed sheepishly, and for a moment, she thought she saw Lucille smile. Or perhaps she had imagined it. “Will you be attending?”  
  
“I’m afraid so,” Lucille said, making no effort to hide exactly how she felt. If Edith could confess her feelings on socialising, Lucille probably felt that she could do so as well. “I’m expected to play for Mrs. McMichael’s guests.”

Lucille stood from her chair. She still wore no expression, and Edith didn't entirely believe that the woman truly liked her, but she was courteous to Edith and that was good enough.

“Perhaps we shall meet again, Miss Cushing,” Lucille said softly.

“Perhaps we shall.”  
  
As Edith watched Lucille walk away without another word, she hoped that they would meet again.

And as Lucille walked away, she hoped she’d _never_ have to see Edith again.


	11. He Chose Her

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas goes against Lucille and Vlad's wishes, and seeks out Edith.

**Chapter 11  
** He Chose Her

 

When Lucille arrived at the hotel, she saw that Thomas was no longer there. Vlad remained, waiting for her ever so patiently in her room. He was perched on the edge of her bed, already dressed in his finest suit. As soon as she opened the door, he rose up and closed the distance between them, taking her hands into his. He wasn’t upset over her outburst, earlier. If anything, he completely understood why she was frightened, and believed that her reaction as justified. For new vampires, hunters were terrifying things. For someone as old as Vlad, they were nothing but pests; they were small insects that simply needed to be crushed under his boot. An insect or two posed no problem. An infestation, however, was a different issue, and he hoped that the trio hadn’t inadvertently walked into one.

“Thomas?” she asked, gripping his hands, and he shook his head slowly, much to her dismay.

“He has gone to find the Cushing woman,” Vlad told her, and she could see that he was not entirely happy about it, himself. His brow furrowed, and his thin lips curved into a disapproving little frown; he looked every part the disappointed father, ready to scold his disobedient child as soon as he got a chance. At this point in time, Edith just seemed too dangerous to pursue, and Vlad insisted that Thomas refrain from interacting with her too closely. Vlad needed more information before he could give Thomas his blessing, and allow him to court her. He was older and wiser and stronger than the siblings, and so it was best that he do the information gathering. Vlad had planned on doing some subtle investigating during the party, but Thomas had chosen to go ahead and disobey, despite Vlad’s warnings and explanations. Now, if Thomas managed to convince Edith to join him, he would draw far too much attention to them all. Apparently there was a stubborn streak in Thomas after all, buried deep inside of his dead little heart. Vlad would let him go, only because he felt that Thomas needed to learn. Thomas needed to take responsibility for his own actions, and if he got himself staked and beheaded, and if he somehow managed to get the Cushing woman killed, then that was on him. It wasn’t Vlad’s fault. It wasn’t Lucille’s fault. It was Thomas’s fault.  
  
It would crush Vlad to lose Thomas, and he didn’t even want to think of what might happen to Lucille, but he knew he couldn’t shield him forever. He could guide Thomas, and help Thomas, and he’d do what he could to protect him, but in the end, Thomas was responsible for himself.

“I did what I could,” he told her, and he kissed her forehead.

“I met Edith,” Lucille said, as she started to undress, unfazed by Vlad’s presence. “I happened upon her during my stroll.”

“And?” Vlad went to the closet, and brought Lucille’s evening dress out to her; it was a stunning gown, the colour of blood, and while he had never seen her wear it, he knew it would look stunning on her. Judging by the style, it appeared to be another relic of days past. Vlad had offered to buy Lucille and Thomas new, fashionable clothes, but Lucille insisted on them wearing the same old, dusty outfits. Lucille’s dresses were beautiful, but they were beginning to fray and so they were in need of replacement, but Vlad couldn’t change her mind. He set the dress down on the bed neatly, and then stepped behind Lucille as she slid blue velvet over her hips and let her dress fall to the floor. His lips touched her shoulder and her neck, grazing over the places where her scars had once been, before his dark kiss had healed them. In becoming immortal, her skin had becoming perfect, no longer covered with blemishes and old scars, but Vlad had memorised the placement of each and every scar that had once marked her skin, and during their most intimate moments, he would always kiss the places where she’d once been marked by her mother and father's brutality.

“If she and her father are a danger to us, she did not make it obvious.” Lucille informed him, trying to act as neutral as possible.

Lucille didn’t dare confess that young Edith Cushing had been perfectly charming; the young writer seemed as amicable as she was beautiful, and this was something of which Lucille did not approve. Edith didn’t seem all too threatened by Lucille; she never even questioned Lucille when she chose not to drink. There was, however, a chance that Edith was just a good actress. 

“Of course,” Vlad whispered. He trailed kisses down her neck, before helping her tighten her corset and step into that crimson dress of hers. His affection didn’t ease her fears, but she could appreciate the sentiment. Vlad and Lucille grew silent; he helped her with her clothing without saying another word, until she was dressed.

“I think he intends to escort her to the party," He finally told her, and she raised her chin, glaring at the wall as though it had personally offended her.

“She made it quite clear that she had no interest in parties,” Lucille answered coolly. “She said that she didn’t wish to attend.”

“Then I imagine he will try to persuade her,” Vlad said contemplatively, before kissing Lucille’s colourless, cold lips. “Don’t be too shocked if he arrives at the gathering with her on his arm.”

“If Carter Cushing is truly a hunter, this will only anger him,” Lucille shook her head. “What is Thomas _doing_?”

Lucille strode over to the teakwood vanity by the hotel room’s window, and she plopped down onto the black velvet seat, doing nothing to veil her understandably sour mood.

“I could not tell you,” Vlad admitted, releasing her thick, dark hair from its confines. He brushed his fingers through it, dipped his head down to kiss the top of her head, and then he began to style her hair for her as she watched herself in the oval mirror; he styled it beautifully, sweeping it all up and then decorating it with jewels that were as red as her gown. He told her to turn around on the stool, and crouched down to paint her lips a deep shade of crimson. She was happy to let him help; she rather enjoyed being pampered by him, and he enjoyed showering her with affection. They were both monsters, but they were monsters who were in love, and they didn’t shy away from showing each other a gentler, more loving side that humans could never comprehend. Humans only saw demons, but demons had hearts, and they had feelings too.

“I do wish we could stay here,” Vlad leaned in, purring into her ear; she turned her head, pecking his lips, and then she used her handkerchief to wipe away the lipstick that she had inadvertently left there.

“As do I, but we need to try and keep these humans happy,” she turned herself around, and then blindly reached behind her to brush her fingers against his cheek. “But when the evening ends, I am sure that we’ll have some time to ourselves.”

And with that, she gave him one of her rare smiles, and he lifted her hand to his lips, kissing her fingers and her wrist.

***

  
Edith Cushing could barely move; her feet felt like lead, and while her mind begged her to run and seek safety, her body was frozen in place, and she feared that her heart might stop beating. The spirit of her mother hadn’t made an appearance in years, but for some reason, she chose to show herself on this evening. The last time she saw her mother’s ghost had been fourteen years ago, soon after the woman’s untimely death, and the experience had been etched into her memory forever. And now she felt like that terrified little girl again, desperately wanting to be left alone. The ghastly, ghostly figure of her mother stood at the end of the hall, watching her. Edith felt a terrible chill shoot down her spine. Without really thinking, she slammed the door, and with a small, shaking voice, she asked the spirit what it wanted with her.

  
Meanwhile, out on the street, Sir Thomas Sharpe waited, hidden in the shadows. He saw Carter Cushing and Alan McMichael leave for the party, and that was when he made his move. He paused, only when he felt a peculiar energy surrounding Edith’s home that reminded him of the ghosts that haunted Allerdale Hall. Whenever he sensed them, they gave off that same energy but this particular spirit wasn’t wrathful and judgmental like the others. This one was frightened and desperate, seemingly unaware of his presence. He would take the risk and approach the house anyway, bracing himself as he crossed the street.

***

The day had been surprisingly eventful. Edith met Sir Thomas Sharpe, and his sister, and the ghost of her mother had reappeared to whisper that cryptic warning of hers, which made little sense to poor Edith. And then Sir Thomas had arrived at her house, asking her to accompany him to the party, moments after her mother had appeared before her. Edith truly did not want to go, but she was so shaken that the last thing she wanted was to remain in the house, for fear that she might see the ghostly apparition once again. And if that were to happen, her heart surely _would_ stop beating.

And so she quickly changed into a beautiful champagne gown, and made herself presentable before catching a stage coach with Thomas. They discussed her novel in more detail; Edith asked Thomas about his machine, but she didn’t want to appear too nosy, so she tried not to ask too many questions. He seemed to appreciate her interest, however, and he was more than happy to tell her all of the details. The way he spoke of it, with such enthusiasm and excitement, was quite delightful.

When they arrived at the McMichael’s home, Edith’s breath caught. She was arriving with the man who was courting Eunice McMichael, which would be greatly frowned upon, but she was also arriving as an unexpected guest. She had declined the invitation; there would be no place for her, surely. Thomas’s words had been so inviting, and so warm, however, and Edith desperately wished to remove herself from the house; they wouldn’t understand her main motivation for showing up, but she would take Mrs McMichael’s thinly veiled hostility over staying in that house any longer.

When she arrived, her arm linked with Thomas’s, she did her best not to cringe upon hearing several surprised, scandalized gasps. She kept a straight face, striding into the room with as much confidence as she could muster. The crowd parted; up ahead, Edith saw Lucille pushing through the crowd, a vision of shimmering crimson. Lucille’s evening dress was also old-fashioned, but it was beautiful; its colour complimented her dark hair and pale skin; she looked stunning. Lucille’s gaze flitted between Edith and Thomas. Unsmiling, Lucille leaned in and kissed his cheek, and Edith saw Thomas’s business partner, Vlad, step out from the crowd. He joined Lucille’s side, and she linked her arm with his while exchanging looks with him that Edith couldn’t quite read. At the same time, Alan stepped in, and Edith gave him an apologetic smile. She knew she’d have to explain everything to him later. Unlike many others, Alan believed her when she spoke of her ghost sightings, and she knew he’d be more than understanding. His mother and sister, on the other hand, would have none of it. She knew not to bother trying to explain the truth to either of them. All it got her was derision and scorn, every time.

“Alan, may I introduce Sir Thomas Sharpe?” Edith said, her words soft and low. She noted how Lucille was watching her brother intensely, as if she were silently communicating a message to him.

“Sir Thomas, this is Dr. Alan McMichael. The best man in town if you’re feeling poorly,” Edith continued.  
  
“A pleasure,” Thomas replied, with a gentle bow of his head. He then gestured to his sister, whose lips twitched into something that might have been a smile, upon meeting Edith’s eye.

“And may I introduce my sister, Lady Lucille Sharpe?” Thomas said. Edith noticed, for the second time that day, just how imposing she was. Her presence felt somewhat suffocating; Edith almost wanted to back away from her, just to escape the heaviness that seemed to surround her.

“Edith and I have already been acquainted,” Lucille announced, and a flash of surprise crossed Thomas’s face. Of course, Edith had been so shaken by the ghost sighting, and then so caught up in her conflicted feelings about attending the party, that she’d forgotten to mention that to him.  
  
“Yes, I met Lady Sharpe on my way home,” Edith said.

“Please, Edith. You may call me Lucille,” Lucille told her gracefully, before shooting Thomas a look that Edith could only describe as ‘cold’. Edith could understand Lucille being worried over her brother’s tardiness, but Lucille seemed more than a little worried. There was something else boiling inside of her. Despair, perhaps, and anger. Edith could see it in her eyes.

“Allow me to introduce Thomas’s associate, and my fiancé, Count Vlad Dracula,” Lucille continued, and she seemed to lose some of her intensity as soon as her eyes met Vlad’s own. Edith didn’t have to look too hard to see the love between them. Admittedly, it surprised Edith a little to hear that Lucille had a fiancé. But at the same time, she did think it was lovely.

Vlad bowed to Edith upon being introduced, and flashed her a smile. He was quite handsome, she thought. He and Lucille made quite a lovely couple.

“It is a pleasure, Miss Cushing. I regret not having the chance to speak to you earlier,” he told her.  
  
“Thomas, we were all growing frantic, worrying for you,” Lucille said quickly, changing the topic before Edith could respond to Vlad's comment.

“Now, dearest, he has arrived. All is well,” Vlad interjected, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze.

“And thanks to him, the party now has another splendid guest. You will tell me more about your manuscript, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Edith said, once again finding it difficult to look into Vlad’s eyes. There was just something about them. They looked like they had seen great horrors and wonders; they looked old, though he looked so very young. She wondered about him, and how he met Lady Lucille. Had they met by chance, or had the meeting been arranged? For how long had they known each other? She doubted she’d ever find out, but there was no harm in being quietly curious about them.

Edith excused herself to go and apologise to Mrs. McMichael for showing up so unexpectedly, and saw that the woman was already approaching her with  a smile that was so forced Edith wondered if her face might crack. Mrs. McMichael had never particularly liked Edith, and Edith had no doubt that she’d earned McMichael’s ire for showing up, arm in arm, with Thomas. But Edith would play nice. She inhaled deeply and opened her mouth to speak but Mrs McMichael cut her off before she could make a sound.

“We weren’t expecting you,” she said and Edith nodded, feeling her cheeks grow hot and her stomach churn. Edith knew it looked bad, and she hated that she couldn’t tell her the truth.

Edith apologised, and she did mean it. But as predicted, she was given a polite but sharp response that aimed to remind Edith of exactly how the older woman felt about her. It was Alan who overheard his mother’s comment; he grimaced and stepped in, giving Edith a look of sympathy as Edith watched her disappear into the crowd.

“Don’t worry about mother,” he whispered reassuringly, the two of them finding a quiet corner to talk. They didn’t want to invite the eyes and ears of a hundred socialites who would, no doubt, eavesdrop on their conversation, picking it apart and taking whatever they liked to fabricate gossip and half-truths. Neither of them needed that. Especially now, on this strange evening.

“It was rude of me to call on you unannounced, when I had already declined the invitation. It’s just...” Edith started, before trailing off, hesitating to continue.

“What happened?” Alan asked, shifting his footing. He glanced up, just to make sure that no one was listening in, and then he gave Edith his full attention. He always reminded her of an older brother, showing Edith concern whenever she felt frightened, and protecting her when she needed protecting. Edith had proven, time and time again, that she didn’t really _need_ protection, but Alan would always stand by her anyway, in case she needed the help. And he could tell, now that he had her alone, that something had shaken her.

“Mother. She showed herself to me,” Edith said, keeping her voice so low that Alan had to strain to hear her. But he only needed to hear her refer to her mother to understand exactly what was going on.

“Again?” His eyes widened, surprised. His brow furrowed and he edged in a little closer, so he could hear her properly.

“Yes. And soon after that, Sir Thomas arrived at my doorstep, asking me to accompany him. I was far too shaken to stay at home, so I decided to leave with him,” Edith explained to him quickly.  
  
Telling all of this to Alan made her feel somewhat better, like a weight had been removed from her shoulders, and Alan listened without judgement. She could see that he believed her, and she knew he’d understand why she had to leave the house and attend, despite how scandalous it all looked.

“If there is anything you need at all, let me know,” Alan said with a reassuring smile. “I’ll speak to mother later. I’ll think of a good explanation. Don’t worry.”

His words, and his smile definitely worked to ease her mind.  
  
“I must apologise for my brother.”

Edith heard the gentle swish of taffeta, and a silky, restrained voice coming up from behind, and she knew it was Lucille. The Sharpe sister had broken away from her brother and her fiancé to join Edith and Alan. A shadow had definitely been cast over her; something was playing on her mind, but Edith didn’t dare inquire as to what was wrong. She didn’t know Lucille well enough. Edith didn’t notice that Alan had clammed up, and looked oddly tense in Lucille’s presence.

“I hope he didn’t make you feel too obliged to attend this event,” Lucille continued.

“He was very persuasive,” Edith said. She couldn’t tell her the truth. How would Lucille react to something like that? She felt it was an incident that needed to be kept between her and Alan. “But I am pleased to be here. It’s wonderful to see you again, Lucille.”

“It’s wonderful to see you, Edith,” Lucille said, though she didn’t sound particularly convincing. “Come. Thomas will be dancing the waltz with young Eunice, and it would mean the world to me if you listened to me play.”

Again, there was something that didn’t sound particularly sincere about Lucille’s invitation, but Edith excused it. Lucille was just trying to be polite and Edith already knew that she wasn't very fond of parties. That was, most likely, the reason for her mood.

Edith obliged, noticing the way the crowd seemed to part for Thomas. Edith joined Eunice’s side, in the hopes that she might get a chance to whisper a word of apology to her. She watched Lucille practically glide over to the piano; it was like she was floating. Everything about the way she moved was noble and graceful, and the design of her gown reminded Edith of royalty. Lucille noted that Edith was watching her, and nodded her acknowledgement, before sitting at the piano stool. Edith saw Vlad whisper something to Lucille, and she saw her own father watching the pair too, like a hawk, his expression stern and seemingly distrusting.  
  
Thomas stood in the middle of the crowd, holding a candle in one hand. As he began to explain the waltz, Edith found herself entranced by his voice and his words; Lucille looked like a queen, and Thomas looked like a handsome prince. Eunice also watched him, confident that the evening was going to improve. Edith knew that she craved the attention, and was looking forward to being swept up by her charming baronet.  
  
“However,” Thomas continued. “It is said the true test of a perfect waltz is for it to be so delicate and so smooth, that a candle flame will not be extinguished in the hand of the lead dancer.”

Edith thought she heard Eunice’s breathe catch.

“Now that requires the perfect partner.”

Sir Thomas approached, and much to Edith’s horror, he held his hand out to _her_ , while ignoring Eunice entirely. He looked directly into her wide, stunned eyes and smiled.

“Would you be mine?”

Edith managed to shoot a glance at Lucille, whose lips were pursed tightly; the Sharpe sister did nothing to hide her disapproval. Edith heard gasps sounding out from within the crowd, and the murmurs that followed made her want to disappear into the crowd herself. He was causing a terrible scene, by ignoring Eunice. It was beyond impolite. She saw that Vlad was also watching Thomas with a critical eye. And how was poor Eunice feeling? Edith couldn’t even bring herself to look at _her_.

“I don’t think so, thank you,” Edith said bluntly, her words strained. “But I’m sure Eunice would be delighted.”

Thomas’s smile never faltered, his hand remained extended, awaiting hers.

“I daresay, but I have asked you.”

She hesitated; seconds became hours, but she accepted his hand. Despite the gossip that this would surely create, she danced with him to Lucille’s perfectly played melody. She noted how cold his hands felt, as his fingers entwined with hers; she easily got lost in his eyes as they moved together, Thomas leading her with confidence. She saw the joy on his face, and found it infectious, smiling in return. They swept across the dance floor, and Edith suddenly forgot the crowd of people swarming around them.

And the candle remained lit. When they stopped, Edith beamed and blew the candle out. Vlad took Lucille’s hand, and she rose from the stool, the two of them departing without another word. Wordlessly, Thomas released Edith’s hand, bowed and quickly followed after them. The trio left the party, and Edith was left brimming with a happiness that she hadn’t felt in a long time. And she wondered if he might be the one.

                                                                                                                                                           ***  
  
Lucille, Thomas and Vlad finally fed, once they left the McMichael’s residence.

Frightened, and livid with her brother, Lucille retreated to her hotel room without saying another word to him. She had said a few choice words in the stage coach, but after that, she refused to say a thing. Even during feeding, she refused to even acknowledge his existence. She just couldn't bring herself to look at the man who was drawing so much attention to them all, despite knowing about the hunters.

Not soon after she disappeared, there was a careful rapping at her door, and Vlad announced himself. Despite not wishing to speak to anyone, she opened the door, and allowed him to enter.  
  
“Darling, are you all right?” he asked, and the look she gave him in response was enough for him to know that she wasn’t all right at all. He reached out to her, and she let him slip his arms around her waist, pulling her close.  
  
“He’s chosen her. Despite our warnings, he has chosen her,” Lucille whispered, her voice trembling ever so slightly. Her cheeks were already stained with tears, and more fell. He kissed them, tasting blood, and he nuzzled his nose against hers.

“I know,” he answered, before kissing her soft lips. “Nothing will happen to us, I swear it.”

“What will you do?”

After a long pause, he cupped her face in his hands.

“I know you won’t approve, but I have summoned _her_ here. She claims to have information,” Vlad said. Lucille suddenly felt like someone had her heart in a vice. She tensed up immediately, staring up at him with wide eyes.

“Her? _Mina_?” Lucille’s lip twitched; it was taking every drop of her energy not to lose herself to rage and grief. If he needed Mina, then that only meant one thing. “You mean to suggest he might be involved?”

“Yes. I have reason to believe that van Helsing has returned. But he will not hurt us, Lucille. I promise you this. I have walked this Earth for centuries, and I have encountered, and silenced, other men and women just like him.”

She wished she felt as confident as he did. But he was trying to protect them, and she had to have faith in him. And it was true: Vlad was older and had far more experience. Lucille and Thomas were in good hands. He slipped out of her arms, reaching up to remove the jewels from her hair. She let him, closing her eyes as he let down her hair. It rolled down her back and she shuddered when he combed his fingers through it.

“We shall overcome this,” he murmured into her ear.

“I must tell you. Edith will be given my blood; I will visit her, along with Thomas. Mina will remain with you.”

Lucille suddenly pulled away, looking at him quizzically. He stroked her cheek, smiling at her in a way that was meant to reassure her.

“Thomas wants her to be of equal strength to him. If he were to give Edith his own blood, it would take years for her to be as a strong as you both are now,” he explained.

“That’s a fair reason,” Lucille answered, defeated. She felt utterly powerless and she hated that more than anything. She stepped away from Vlad, and slipped out of her gown, letting it crumple into a heap at her feet.  
  
Vlad turned, with the intention of returning to his own room.  
  
She let him.


	12. Mina

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucille is still upset at Thomas. Meanwhile, Mina arrives, and she's more than prepared to have a little chat with the Sharpes.

**Chapter 12  
** Mina

 

“Lucille?”

In the early hours of the morning, when the sun had not yet risen and the world was still in darkness, there came a tentative knock at Lucille’s door. She stirred at the sound, and opened her eyes, hearing a soft, male voice calling to her. He called her name again after a long pause, and though she was tempted to ignore the voice and feign deep sleep, instead she lazily rose from her pillow and mentally prepared herself for the inevitable confrontation.

“Come in, Thomas,” she replied, her words cold and exhausted. She didn’t want to be cold towards her brother; she wanted to embrace him, and hear him say that he loved her, but she was still so very livid with him.

She heard a click as the door handle turned, and Thomas slipped into the room. Guilt flashed across his face as soon as he met her judgmental gaze. She rose from her pillows but made no effort to leave her bed, and she most certainly did not react when she watched him slink in, like a dog with his tail between his legs. His recklessness was hard to forgive; she had made so many sacrifices for him, over so many long and painful years. And though she still struggled to accept it, she was granting him the freedom to court an appropriate woman. However, Thomas was taking it too far, and that hurt her. She needed Thomas, and she couldn’t bear to see him murdered, all because he wished to find a bride. None of this was worth the risk of being hunted. Oh, how she wished they could all go back to Allerdale Hall. How she wished they could go back to that time when she was enough for him.

Thomas knelt, at the foot of her bed, and he bowed his head; he seemed unable to look at her directly.

“Lucille. I’m sorry,” he started, staring at the floor as though it might guide him, and whisper the right words to say to his sister.

“Your persistent pursuit of Miss Cushing has drawn attention to us, and thus you have endangered us all,” Lucille interrupted, and Thomas shuddered at the razor sharp, icy tone of her voice.

“I understand that. I’ve thought only of myself. But please, Lucille, _listen_ …”

He looked up, and saw that bloody tears rolled down her face; although she looked impassive, she still silently wept, and seeing that hurt him more than a hunter’s stake ever would.

“She’s the one. I know it,” he whispered and stood, feeling Lucille’s eyes following his every movement.

“Vlad has been forced to summon Mina, Thomas. This is _not_ a welcome situation,” Lucille retorted quickly, refusing to acknowledge Thomas’s desperate words. It was as though she didn’t hear them at all.

“We should have stayed. We should never have left. Allerdale Hall was safe… Our home, away from those terrible creatures.”

“Lucille….” Thomas’s voice shook. He could feel that terrible guilt building up inside of him. It felt like his knees might buckle under the pressure, and that desire to give in was growing stronger by the minute. Thomas didn’t want Lucille’s heart to ache, but Edith wouldn’t leave his head; he thought of her constantly. He saw a beautiful young woman with a creative, intelligent mind; he saw a woman who might be as interested in adventure as he was. Thomas saw a kindred spirit, but Lucille couldn’t see it at all. All Lucille saw was a threat to their lives, and a threat to their lifestyle. He joined Lucille on the bed, crawling beside her and sitting on his knees.

“Will you still love me, Thomas?” Lucille finally whispered, cupping his face in her hands.

“Of course,” Thomas answered without hesitation.

“Will she accept us, Thomas?” Lucille asked, and this time, Thomas couldn’t give her an answer. The silence was deafening, and frightened her even more. She leaned in and kissed his tears, tasting blood on her lips; she found herself desperately wishing to turn back time. She felt powerless, and that made her feel vulnerable. The lack of control terrified her.

“What if she rejects us? What if all this madness is for nothing?”

“Trust me, Lucille,” he begged of her softly, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I can’t,” she answered truthfully, and he winced as her nails grazed down his cheek. Her fingers suddenly took hold of his dark hair, and with a sudden and rough tug, his head snapped to the side. He made no sound, however. He shut his eyes, feeling Lucille’s lips grazing against the soft, smooth skin of his neck.

“Try. _Please_ , try. Believe in me now, dear sister,” he whispered, slipping his arms around her waist and holding her to him. He shuddered, feeling her teeth scrape against his skin.

“This is my one final request.”

There was so much desperation in his words. He truly wished for Lucille to understand. Lucille gave no answer. Instead, her teeth sunk into his flesh, and a terrible pleasure flowed through his body. She drank from him ravenously and possessively, and felt his fingers pressing hard into her flesh. A soft whimper sounded from the back of his throat, followed by a groan as she clung to him, and devoured his sweet blood, silently claiming him as her own.

“But should she hurt us, in any way, I will ensure that she begs for death, my darling,” Lucille finally whispered, once she pulled away. And she punctuated her words with a hard kiss upon Thomas’s lips, forcing him to taste his own cursed blood. The copper smell and taste was maddening, and once Lucille presented her own throat to him, he dipped his head down and tasted her just as she had tasted him. She closed her eyes, cupping the back of his head in her hand. And she smiled, enjoying his hungry groans and grunts. They enjoyed each other, in an attempt to temporarily forget about the situation at hand, and then they rested until the sun disappeared behind the horizon once more.

***

An uneventful day passed. Edith spend the day writing and rewriting her beloved manuscript, pouring over every word and changing scenes whenever she felt the need. However, her mind kept wandering and she’d eventually find herself rolling onto her back on her bed, staring at the ceiling as she replayed the events of the McMichael’s reception in her mind repeatedly.. She swore she could still feel Thomas’s cold hand upon her back, and she remembered the way he looked at her, as they spun around that dance floor. In that moment, the world faded into the background; she forgot where she was, and all she could see was Thomas, smiling at her with such warmth and admiration. She wondered if there was a future for them. Perhaps they were dangerous thoughts; she felt terribly for poor Eunice, who had clearly been turned down by the young baronet, but Edith couldn’t stop thinking about his touch upon her bare skin, and his expressive, beautiful eyes, gazing into her own and sparkling with joy from the moment he approached her, and offered his hand. The memory alone took her breath away. She didn't exactly approve of what Thomas had done, embarrassing Eunice and, by extension, the rest of her family. And yet, she couldn't deny that she felt a spark between the two of them.

Of course, she was quite surprised when Thomas’s business associate arrived at her home, and gave her a beautifully hand-written letter from the baronet, requesting her company at a picnic. They had, apparently, also invited the McMichael siblings; perhaps it was some kind of apology. Of course, Edith agreed to it, without a second thought.

“And will Lucille be there?” she asked, remembering the stunning pianist and the advice that she had so freely given Edith in regards to her novel. She'd been improving her manuscript by adding some of Lucille's suggestions and she couldn't wait to show her. Of course, she felt a little anxious but she hoped Lucille would approve.

“Of course. Where Thomas goes, Lucille follows,” Vlad smiled.

“Are they close? Thomas and Lucille?” Edith asked, and Vlad chuckled; something about her question appeared to amuse him but she didn’t quite understand what that something was.

“Indeed they are. They are inseparable; they care for each other deeply,” he told her.

The thought made her smile; she imagined the two of them growing up together, roaming the halls of their ancestral home. She had, in her curiosity, read about Allerdale Hall once she’d returned home from the reception at the McMichael’s, and reading about the history of the house only strengthened that curiosity of hers. Edith also wondered what it was like to have a sibling. It must have been nice.

Vlad reached out and took her hand; his touch was as cold as Thomas’s and she almost pulled away in her surprise, but Vlad’s smile was warm and inviting, and that stopped her from doing something that might potentially offend. His lips touched her knuckles for just a moment, and then he stepped away with a gracious bow.

“We all look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Miss Cushing,” he told her, and he excused himself politely.  
  
Meanwhile Lucille and Thomas slept, sharing the same bed. Thomas held Lucille to him the entire time, unwilling to let her go even as they rested. And neither of them realised just how much they needed their sleep, until their heads hit the pillows. Thomas watched Lucille struggle to stay awake; he caressed her hair and her cheek until she drifted off and then he allowed himself to fall into a deep slumber as well.

“I love you, Lucille,” he whispered, just as he surrendered himself to sleep. A smile crept up on Lucille’s lips; somewhere, in her dreams, she heard his words.

The siblings would awaken in the dead of the night, and the two of them would hunt together, drinking the blood of drunken businessmen before retiring back to the hotel, where they recuperated some more. There would be a picnic tomorrow, and being out in the sun would surely drain them of their energy.

Some time after they returned, they felt a presence. This was the presence of someone who shared their blood, but it was not Vlad. Thomas and Lucille both felt someone reach into their minds, and they felt a peculiar sensation overcome them. It was a feeling of calm and warmth. This was how they learned that Mina had arrived. She was merely greeting them, without disturbing their time together. Of course, Lucille wasn’t entirely pleased over Mina’s summoning. Mina was, after all, Vlad’s previous lover and while Lucille knew that she now had Vlad’s love and devotion, Mina’s presence still made her uncomfortable. However, Mina was there to help; Buffalo was unsafe, Thomas insisted upon courting Edith, and Mina had far more experience with the vampiric world, and human hunters than both Lucille and Thomas. She knew the man who was so obsessed with hunting Vlad down, and Lucille understood that she was needed, in order to dispose of that despicable human once and for all.

***

Vlad knew Mina had arrived before she even knocked upon his door. He bowed to her as soon as he opened the door, and then he gestured for her to enter. As usual, Mina was a stunning vision to behold; her long, dark hair, as black as a raven’s glossy wing, was swept up into an elegant and intricate bun, with just a few curled strands hanging loose to frame her face. She had a sharp, intimidating blue gaze, and delicate features. Truly, she was beautiful, but while Vlad still lusted after her, he no longer loved her as he once had. That flame had long since been extinguished. However, he was still exceedingly proud of his first dark daughter. She was as intelligent as she was deadly and gracefully monstrous. Though they no longer loved each other, Vlad had no regrets sharing his blood with her. He knew she was capable of great things, and the world would be a sadder place without her. He respected and admired her, and he truly believed she deserved eternity.

“It has been so long, Mina. I would have liked to have reunited with you under better circumstances, but I’m afraid it is what it is,” Vlad said, offering her a chair.

“It is quite alright,” Mina offered a smile and sat down, folding one hand over the other in her lap. “These are troubling times. Van Helsing is indeed following you, once again.”

To that news, Vlad could only sigh; that man’s name made his blood boil, and he would gladly tear out his throat if he were to meet him again. In fact, he was entertaining the idea of ridding the world of Van Helsing, once and for all. Perhaps a meeting would be for the best.

“My sources tell me he followed you from Cumbria. He heard whispers among the locals and that was when he decided to investigate.”

“And what of Carter Everett Cushing?”

“He is not a hunter, but he’s well acquainted with Van Helsing. He knows that you are in Buffalo, and he knows about the Sharpes. His daughter, however, is unaware and entirely innocent to all of this,” Mina said, as Vlad remained silent. He sat on the edge of his bed, his brow furrowing, and a deep rage brewing inside of him. It took a lot to quell it; in fact, he was certain he felt Mina using her abilities to calm him down, even as she gave her report.

“I would also be wary of Dr Alan McMichael,” she continued, sitting up a little taller.  
  
“McMichael is also acquainted with Van Helsing, you see. They met in England, and they quickly became friends after Alan learned of his friendship with Mr Cushing,” Mina informed him, her voice neutral and unemotional.

“The McMichael _women_ are of no concern; Alan has remained silent, in an effort to protect them, I suppose. I hear he was advised by Abraham to allow the reception to go ahead, so he and Mr Cushing could observe the three of you.”

Mina stood from her seat and joined Vlad on the edge of the bed, her green dress rustling as it brushed against the floor; she dipped her head down, resting her forehead against his shoulder, and he draped an arm around her, kissing her hair.

“Thank you, my darling Mina.”

“You’re welcome. Now, won’t you let me meet my new siblings? I should like to meet them; I have some words of advice for my dear brother.”

“Be gentle,” Vlad chuckled and she looked up at him with a defiant little smile that told Vlad that she had no intention of being gentle at all. Mina had a sharp tongue, and she often spoke up when others did not.

“When am I not?” she asked innocently, feigning offense, her hand pressed to her chest like a scandalised socialite.

“Thomas is a good man. A flawed man.”

“A _stubborn_ man,” Mina interjected. “I worry for young Edith. That poor woman is too closely connected to Abraham, and I couldn’t bear to see her sent down the same path as Lucy.”

“Edith will not suffer as Lucy did,” Vlad told her, though he could tell that she didn’t believe him.

“Then let Edith choose her path. If she follows Thomas, then perhaps it is meant to be, but do not allow her to take your blood here,” Mina spoke, her voice earnest and demanding all at once. After so many years, she still mourned for poor Lucy; her dear friend should have been by her side at this very moment, but instead she was driven to madness by Van Helsing’s treatments, and then she was brutally murdered. Poor Edith reminded Mina of Lucy far too much, in appearance more so than personality, and despite being the daughter of Van Helsing’s friend, she would protect her.

“Please. I implore you. Let her follow Thomas to Allerdale. Giving her your blood here will only put her at risk.”

Vlad cupped Mina’s face in both hands, and rested his forehead against her own.

“Let me speak with Thomas, Vlad.”

“Very well,” he said, before kissing her forehead. “We will be going on an outing tomorrow, to the park. Edith will be there. Attend, and speak to Thomas afterwards.”

“Splendid. I shall look forward to it.” Mina smiled, and that was when she stood up, but not with giving Vlad a playful curtsy. “And now, I must return to my room. You will tell me when we’re to leave for the park, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Vlad said, bowing his head respectfully. “Good evening to you, Mina.”

“And good evening to you,” Mina nodded, and as soon as Vlad blinked, she vanished and it was like she’d never been there at all.

***

“What did she say?” Lucille asked Vlad, as they lay in his bed, their limbs entwined.

“Her advice to Thomas is to let Edith choose her own path,” he answered, taking her wrist and raising it to his lips. “Let her follow him to Allerdale Hall, but do not take her blood in Buffalo.”

“Is th-,” her words were cut off, replaced by a loud gasp as his teeth sunk into her skin and he began to drink from her wrist. “Honestly? I doubt Van Helsing, Alan McMichael, or Carter Cushing are going to allow Edith to follow. This won’t stop them from hunting us, darling,” she said, trying to suppress the enraptured noises that threatened to spill from her lips. The dark kiss was always so terribly intoxicating, and she welcomed the sensation more than ever, after feeling so stressed.

“I know, but it removes Edith from Buffalo and gives us an advantage,” he told her once he pulled away, licking her blood from his lips.

“Allerdale Hall is your domain; you know it’s secrets. They do not. Edith will be on our land, in our world,” he whispered. “And those three ought to understand the risks and consequences of entering a vampire’s domain.”

“I suppose so,” Lucille answered, pressing herself against him, her hand lightly settling upon his chest. She was still fearful, however she did approve of Mina’s advice. She didn’t necessarily approve of her presence, but she was still grateful for the woman’s words.

"They are less likely to attack if we act human and refrain from acting hostile," Vlad added. Lucille merely responded with a thoughtful, tired hum.

“You will meet Mina tomorrow,” Vlad smiled. Lucille, with her head buried against Vlad’s shoulder, lifted herself to look up at him.  
  
“I’ll be delighted to meet her,” Lucille said, though she wasn’t too sure how much she believed her own words. Vlad wasn't too sure how much he believed them either, but he had faith in Lucille and believed she would act polite, at least.

“Good. She will be happy to make your acquaintance too, my love,” he whispered. Lucille lowered her head once more, resting it upon his chest this time, as though listening for a heartbeat.

“May I stay with you until the morning? My bed is so cold,” she murmured, her eyes already closing. "Lonely."

“Always, my love. Always.”


	13. The Misunderstood Creatures

**Chapter 13  
** The Misunderstood Creatures

When Edith stepped out of the stagecoach and immediately saw Thomas waiting for her, she felt her heart beat a little faster in her chest; he stood, alone, and although his eyes were obscured by round, dark glasses, she could still feel their warmth from the very moment he saw her. She was reminded of their waltz, and how he had locked gazes with her for most of the dance, watching her with something that felt, to her, like love.

“I'm so glad you made it,” he smiled, bowing his head elegantly, and she felt her face grow hot; she hoped the colour in her cheeks wasn’t too obvious, but her nerves were getting the better of her, especially now that she stood in the presence of the handsome baronet. How she hoped he'd love her; there was something about him that drew her in, and she felt as though they had a connection. A spark. It was so strange a feeling; she barely knew him, after all.

“Come with me, the others are waiting,” he told her with a hint of excitement in his voice. “Lucille told me she wishes to see your manuscript.”

“She does?” Edith responded, feeling her anxiety grow at the very mention of his intimidating, mysterious sister. On the day Edith had met Lucille, she'd wondered if the elder Sharpe had merely been acting polite towards Edith. Edith had been rather concerned that she was being nothing but a nuisance, taking up Lucille's time with talk about her novel. However, hearing this news made her wonder if Lady Sharpe was, in fact, genuinely interested in her work. She really did want to hear Lucille’s critique, and she hoped, with all of her heart, to hear Lucille praise her work. Her praise would mean the world to her.

"I do hope she'll like it. She was so helpful, and I took her suggestions to heart. All of them," Edith said, and that seemed to please Thomas. He chuckled, amused by her eagerness to please his sister.

"That will brighten up her mood," he said, as he began to walk; Edith followed along, walking beside him while clutching her manuscript to her chest in an almost protective manner.

"Is she unwell?" Edith asked in a low voice, looking straight ahead of her in an attempt to locate the rest of their party.

"We've received some unfortunate news. She worries," Thomas admitted with a sigh. "But your presence shall make the day brighter for us all."

Edith couldn't hide her smile; she certainly hoped she could bring them some cheer. She doubted that her mere presence would truly ease their minds, but she would surely treat them all with a little extra kindness. Up ahead, she saw three dark figures sitting on chairs, and instantly recognized two of them as being Vlad and Lucille. Edith didn't recognize the third figure, who sat on Vlad's left side and was leisurely fanning herself with a beautiful fan made of black lace. She too wore similar dark glasses and she raised them above her eyes as soon as she saw Edith and Thomas approach. She was, in fact, the first to notice the pair, and she stood to greet them, which immediately caught Lucille and Vlad's attention.

Lucille closed the journal in which she'd been busily writing; Vlad extended his hand and helped Lucille stand, and he grinned upon seeing Edith and Thomas approaching their little picnic spot.

"Miss Cushing! How splendid it is to see you again," Vlad spoke up, presenting himself with a gracious bow.

Unlike Vlad, Lucille made no reaction at all; she stood tall and rigid, with her hands folded in front of her, and she failed to even acknowledge Edith. The mystery woman smiled faintly, and seemed to look at Edith fondly, like she was greeting an old friend. The woman was just as imposing as Lucille, if not more so; she lowered her glasses but Edith could still feel that striking, blue gaze watching her every move. She felt as though those eyes were trying to peer into her very soul and draw out all her secrets, and the thought made her shudder involuntarily.

"It's wonderful to see you all. Thank you so much for inviting me," Edith said.

"The pleasure is ours," Vlad responded, and he nodded to the young woman beside him. "Miss Cushing, this is Mina Harker. An old friend of mine."

"Charmed," Mina said with a smile. "I came from New York to visit a friend, and received word that Vlad was in Buffalo. I can never say no to meeting old friends. And new ones, of course."

Mina's voice was husky, and oddly soothing. Edith detected a strong English accent, and wondered how long she'd been living in America.

"I was originally from London, but I moved to America a number of years ago. America has been good to me," Mina added, like she'd read Edith's thoughts. For a moment Edith wondered if she could, in fact, read her thoughts; she mentally reprimanded herself for being silly, and yet she still couldn't shake the feeling that Mina could see right through her.

"I'm glad to hear it," Edith answered.

Mina's eyes lit up and she grinned, placing her hand on the arm of the empty seat beside her, and giving it an inviting pat.

"Sit with me. I see, perhaps, a kindred spirit before me, and so I wish to learn more about you," Mina confessed.

Edith couldn't pass up her invitation, and so she sat down, setting her manuscript on her lap. She did take a moment to glance at Lucille, who had wordlessly returned to her seat. The older Sharpe opened her journal again, and continued to busily write. Vlad was leaning in, reading it and whispering words that occasionally brightened her otherwise stoic features, but she never once spoke. Edith found herself wanting to ask Lucille what she was writing, exactly, but didn't dare pry. Now didn't feel like the right time, and she didn't want to ignore Mina, who seemed eager to talk to her. Being ignored by Lucille hurt a little, but after Thomas's news, she tried hard not to take it too personally. Lucille was clearly unhappy, and probably didn't wish to be socialising at all.

"Forgive us, we all had a rather hearty breakfast and we couldn't possibly take another bite. But I've made sandwiches, and I've brought sweets for you, the doctor, and his sister," Mina told her, pointing to the lovely setup that was spread across the blankets. Edith saw fresh sandwiches, a cake, and a pitcher of juice, as well as a variety of fruits. Mina had really gone out of her way.

"I hope they're to your liking."

There was still something so very intimidating about Mina Harker, and Edith couldn't work out what that something was. Though she had been nothing but accommodating and sweet thus far, Edith still sensed something otherworldly about her. It both frightened and drew her in.

"Thank you. That's very kind of you," Edith said gratefully.

"You're most welcome. Now, you must tell me about yourself. Colour me intrigued," Mina said, with a playful tone.

"Well, I don't really know what I could tell you."

"Anything you wish to share. What do you like?" Mina said affectionately, and once again, she was addressing Edith like an old friend instead of a stranger. It didn't bother Edith at all; Mina seemed genuinely interested in her, which was nice. Still, she took a little while to respond, suddenly concerned about admitting to something that might make the oddly warm but severe-looking young woman lose interest in her.

"Reading? I'm fond of the writings of Byron and Shelley. And there are so many others," she started, and the flicker of admiration in Mina's gaze inspired her to continue. Edith was oblivious to the fact that Thomas and Vlad were listening in to her every word, watching her interact with Mina. Lucille was caught up in her own little world, writing and reading her work over and over again.

"They're splendid, aren't they?" Mina said. "I enjoy their work too."

"They inspire me; I know I couldn't possibly write something that even remotely compares to their work," Edith mused openly, but Mina shook her head and made a dismissive gesture with one hand.

"And yet you may write something just as wonderful. I've heard whispers that your manuscript shows great promise," Mina said, while shooting Thomas an unreadable glance. Thomas, of course, didn't quite know how to interpret Mina's glance, but he couldn't deny the feeling of dread welling up inside him, like Edith was the only thing standing between him and a brutally honest lecture.

"Really?" Edith's eyes grew wider; she was trying hard not to beam, but she was quickly losing her battle; Mina's own smile was infectious and she could hardly help herself after receiving such a lovely comment.

"Of course. You intend to send it to the Atlantic Monthly, yes?"

"That's right," Edith answered.

Mina leaned in a little closer, her voice taking a hushed tone.

"When you're finished, let me take a look at it. They receive so many submissions and so few get properly read; I may be able to help you get your manuscript seen. I have... friends in the industry."

Edith opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by Vlad, who stood from his seat and looked straight past Mina and Edith.

"Doctor McMichael, how good of you to join us," Vlad grinned. Mina exchanged glances with Edith, and quietly whispered an invitation to continue the discussion later.

"My apologies, there was a... medical emergency," Alan apologised. Edith couldn't help but notice something terribly disingenuous and tense about that smile that he wore. It was almost like he was afraid of something; he seemed awfully cautious, as though he was entering the den of a wild animal.

"An emergency? I hope everything is all right," Vlad said.

"It is. Thank you for your concern, _count_ ," Alan spoke curtly.

"I see Eunice couldn't make it," Vlad observed.

"No, she had a prior engagement. She sends her regards," Alan answered, somewhat unconvincingly. Edith presumed his tense attitude was due to the manner in which Eunice had been treated at the reception. And she could certainly understand it; Eunice had been cruel to her in the past, but she still couldn't condone the way the younger McMichael had been treated. Alan sat in front of her on the blanket and gave her a smile. Edith returned it, and then glanced at Lucille, who was watching Alan with an eerily blank expression.

"You must be Edith's friend, then," Mina's voice rung out, breaking the sudden, uncomfortable silence. "I'm Mina Harker, how do you do?"

She placed an odd emphasis on her surname. To Edith, it seemed like she hoped Alan might recognise it, and judging by the way his jaw set and his eyes glazed over for a moment, he did.

"Harker. Your name sounds familiar," Alan commented innocently enough.

"It's a small world. I wouldn't be surprised to hear that we have mutual _friends_ ," Mina responded, proceeding to fan herself again.

"Perhaps we do," Alan responded in a curt way that, once again, surprised Edith.

"Perhaps," she responded, with a cryptic smile, and only poor Edith seemed oblivious as to what it meant. Her eyes held a warning, and the way her lips curled up hinted to danger and foreboding; Edith noticed, and it sent a chill up her spine while also leaving her feeling rather confused. Suddenly, she felt a need to stand and remove herself from the situation, and so she did, choosing to sit on her knees beside Lucille's chair. She still had her beloved manuscript, which she held with both hands, and she remained silent, waiting for Lucille to acknowledge her; she looked up at the pale, ethereal woman in a way that reminded Lucille of a puppy desperately begging for attention. And so Lucille took her time, writing down the rest of her thoughts without once looking at young Edith.

"What are you writing?" Edith whispered, finally giving in to her curiosity, and as soon as she made eye contact with the other woman, she regretted her question and wished that she could take it back. "You don't need to tell me, of course. I'm just..."

"A melody," Lucille interrupted her, closing the little book. "But it is not yet ready to be heard."

"Might you sing it to me, someday?" Edith asked in that same hushed tone, and Lucille swore she saw her cheeks grow pink.

"Only if you're ready to hear it," Lucille said. With that, much to Edith's surprise, she offered the leather-bound book to Edith.

"You shared your manuscript with me. I feel its only fair that I share my writing with you."

Edith tentatively took it, not wanting to appear too eager to read Lucille's personal writings. But she felt honoured that Lucille was willing to share that much with her. She opened the pages and began to read; the pages were splashed with ink in parts; Edith saw countless rewrites and lines striking through words and passages that Lucille had rejected. But Lucille's prose was strikingly beautiful; every word was like a window into Lucille's very soul; Edith could see fear, yearning and heartache in those words and wondered if this was how Lucille truly felt. As she read, she could feel Lucille watching her, perhaps to see her reactions to Lucille's personal work.

"They're beautiful, Lucille," Edith finally muttered once she'd finished reading a few of her poems; as she spoke, she found herself unable to tear her eyes away from the pages. "They're so sad, but... beautiful."

"If you can find beauty in the shadows, then you can find it almost anywhere," Lucille smiled, just as cryptically as Mina had, earlier. Edith couldn't help but wonder what she meant by those words. She felt like Lucille was trying to tell her something, but she couldn't determine what, exactly, that something was. Lucille took her book back, her eyes darting down to the manuscript that now lay on Edith's lap.

"Would you like to read it?" Edith asked.

"I would love nothing more," Lucille replied, and she started to read as soon as Edith handed it to her.

"Vlad told me that you write ghost stories, darling," Mina called out, catching Edith's attention.

"No, they're not ghost stories, Mina," Vlad spoke up before Edith had a chance to explain. "They're..."

"Stories with ghosts _in_  them," Vlad and Edith said in unison, causing them both to chuckle. Even Thomas couldn't help but laugh.

"Do you believe in them? Ghosts?" Mina asked, and suddenly Edith felt her face growing hot once again. She could feel Lucille's eyes watching her, waiting to judge her response, and that was the last thing she wanted. She wanted Lucille to _like_  her, and she didn't seem like the type of woman to believe in ghosts.

"Edith saw a ghost once," Alan cut in, and Edith felt herself wanting to take her manuscript from Lucille's hands so she could hide her face behind it. She wondered how flushed she looked. And, of course, she made the mistake of looking up at Lucille, who was indeed watching her with one raised eyebrow.

"It's just a metaphor, really," Edith stammered. Mina laughed.

"I must confess that I believe, with all of my heart, that ghosts exist. And I don't doubt that Edith has seen one, Doctor McMichael. To me, they're as real as everything else in this world," Mina said. "But like so many other poor creatures, they're gravely misunderstood."

"Some are deserving of their reputations," Alan interjected, and Edith saw that bizarre smile light up Mina's face once again.

"But men and women of intelligence ought to know that generalizations lead us down dangerous paths," Mina politely argued, sitting up a little straighter.

"I see your point," Alan said with a bow of his head, his brow furrowing as he reflected on Mina's words.

"We fear and spurn the things that we don't understand and that, to me, is a tragedy," Mina added. "We could learn so much from each other if we simply took the time to listen."

"You seem passionate about this subject," Alan commented, pouring himself a glass of juice.

"That is a fair assessment, doctor," Mina responded with a light chuckle. "Now, enough about that. Tell me about your work; I have friends who are medical professionals, and I love hearing their stories."

At first, Alan appeared to be reluctant, but he began to tell Mina about his work, and became more comfortable as the minutes passed. To Edith, he still seemed guarded while Mina seemed perfectly relaxed. Lucille abruptly stood, handed the manuscript to Vlad, and then wordlessly began to wander away from the party.

Edith spoke to Vlad for a little while, and then politely excused herself so she could keep Lucille company. Lucille spoke to her about insects, while she observed the butterflies scattered upon the grass; she spoke to her of nature and death and seemed entirely fascinated by the insects. Edith couldn't share her enthusiasm for entomology, but she tried for Lucille. It was evident that Lucille wanted, for a moment, to share an interest with Edith and Edith wasn't going to push her away. She still wasn't entirely comfortable, watching Lucille toy with the dying butterflies, and so she was most thankful when Thomas approached and invited Edith to walk with him.

Lucille appeared reluctant to let them go, but Thomas insisted, and the two of them began their walk, discussing books and Thomas's work. She learned a lot about Thomas; he told her that he was building the clay harvester in the hopes that he might restore the Sharpe name. The family fortune was lost, and while Vlad was far from destitute, Thomas didn't wish to rely on the count for anything. Edith found that admirable. Vlad could have easily funded the machine but Thomas was willing to work for it. Edith made a note to mention that to her father if the topic arose. And she was certain that it would.

A sudden commotion broke their conversation; Edith heard surprised yelps and frightened screams coming from other picnic goers, and her eyes frantically followed the sounds; people scrambled, knocking glasses of wine, and dropping plates without a second thought. It didn't take long for her to see the source of the unexpected chaos; a wolf was trotting through the park, without a care in the world for the humans running from it. With the way it moved it's head, it almost appeared to be searching for something. And when its eyes met Edith's, it began to approach her.

"Thomas?" she whispered, gripping his arm. The creature was large, even for a wolf, and while it didn't appear too aggravated or frightened, it was still a wild creature and it was most definitely approaching them.

"It's all right," he said calmly, patting her hand before stepping in front of her. And much to her astonishment, he crouched down and held his hand out to it, which only encouraged it to move faster.

"What are you...?" she stammered, staring wide-eyed at the way he casually held out his arm, a faint smile brightening up his features in a way that would have been endearing if the scene hadn't been so shocking to her.

The creature lowered it's head, once it got close enough, and sniffed at Thomas's hand, before allowing him to gently stroke its soft, grey fur.

"Hello there," Thomas said to it, and in response, it licked at his cheek like a sweet little puppy, causing him to laugh. It was a beautiful sound; for once he looked happy, and it seemed to Edith like all of his worries and burdens had momentarily vanished. Thomas looked to Edith, scratching the wolf behind the ear.

"Would you like to pet him?" Thomas asked, and for a moment, Edith was speechless.

"Pet... a _wolf?_ " Edith said incredulously.

"He won't hurt you, I promise."

Edith bit her lip, looking at the oddly docile creature; he seemed quite content with the attention he was receiving from Thomas, nuzzling his hand with his head and licking at him.

"This is madness, Thomas," Edith murmured, but she still proceeded to carefully extend her arm as Thomas had done moments earlier. Thomas took his own hand away, and he watched the wolf intently; surely her imagination was, once again, getting the better of her, but it almost looked like he was silently communicating with the animal. And the wolf immediately nuzzled at her hand, insistent on being petted by her. It was, to Edith, something she never imagined she'd do, and she couldn't help grinning as he let her touch his fur. She looked at Thomas, unable to believe she was actually petting a wild animal. It all just seemed so strange to her. Thomas returned her smile; she thought she saw love in his eyes again, and there was something else too. Longing, perhaps.

"I think he likes you," Thomas said.

"I wonder what he's doing out here? And how on earth is he so tame?"

Thomas had no answer for her, but he also pet the creature until he noticed Vlad and Lucille approaching them. Vlad spoke to the creature in a commanding tone, in a language that Edith didn't understand; it dashed away, but not without giving them a second glance.

"Are you alright, Edith?" Vlad asked softly, concerned.

"That was... the most peculiar thing," Edith mused, taking Vlad's hand as soon as he offered it to her, so she could pick herself up from the ground.

"Creatures of the night... where I come from, they are friends, and nothing to be feared," Vlad told her, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it go.

"I do hope the poor thing will be okay," Edith said.

"I admire your concern; he may be lost, but he shall find his family soon enough," Vlad answered her. "I'm sure of it. Now, let us return. Mina and the doctor are waiting for us."

Edith bit her lip and walked close to Thomas. And when they said their goodbyes and Alan took Edith home, the only thing on her mind for the remainder of the day was the picnic, and that unique moment that she'd shared with the baronet.

***

"You're nothing but a stubborn child, Sir Thomas Sharpe," Mina admonished him with curt, controlled annoyance once they were hidden behind closed doors, her words cutting through him like a knife. She paced Vlad's hotel room, taking swift and furious strides, and her anger, which had been tightly suppressed since she'd met him, could be felt by every vampire in that room; the air felt thick and heavy, and it had grown unforgivably cold.

"I'm not finished," she growled as soon as Thomas's pale lips parted, and he squeezed his eyes shut, feeling like that small, scolded child standing before his father once again. And when he opened his eyes again, he looked to Lucille and it was plain to see that she was struggling to keep herself collected. He saw Vlad's arm around her, his fingers pressing into her shoulders firmly; he held her, seemingly afraid that she might fly at Mina should he let her go.

"You continue to pursue this woman, knowing full well that you're being followed and watched by those who would love nothing more than to remove our heads from our bodies," Mina said. "Tell me, Sir Sharpe. Have you ever witnessed a staking? Or a beheading, for that matter?"

She moved in closer, her body almost pressing against his, and he instinctively shrunk back, his leg hitting the side of the bed.

"I have, and I can assure you that it's not a pretty sight. I am telling you this for your own good. Give her vampiric blood here, in Buffalo, and she's as good as dead. She will be in a grave instead of by your side," she snarled. Thomas forced himself to look at her and desperately tried not to cower, but her glare truly frightened him; she was wiser than he was, older than he was, and far more aggressive.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yes," Thomas answered, finally bowing his head, but as soon as he did, Mina placed her hand under his chin and gently made him look at her once again.

"You're smitten with her, and that is lovely. Truly, it is. But Van Helsing is a danger to you, and a potential danger to Edith as well. I speak from experience; he once killed a dear friend of mine, Lucy Westenra," Mina confessed, her words finally softening as soon as she mentioned Lucy's name.

"I'm... sorry to hear that," Thomas said.

"Vlad didn't know of Van Helsing, and he had no one to warn him at the time," Mina spoke, her eyebrows knitting together as she recalled that time, so many years ago. "But I shall never forgive Van Helsing for what he did, just as I shall never forgive you if you endanger that young woman's life."

She shot Vlad a look; Lucille couldn't quite interpret it and neither could Thomas, but it was by no means friendly. That much, they could tell.

"Vlad has been far too accommodating and patient; he is good to his loved ones. He has been, in fact, a little too good to you."

With a swift stride, Mina was suddenly standing before Lucille, her face mere inches from Lucille's own. Both of her slender hands settled upon Lucille's cheeks.

"Vlad would burn Buffalo to the ground, simply to protect you. He loves you, Lucille. Believe in him," Mina said, prompting Lucille to look up at her fiance, and in that moment she saw just how utterly exhausted he looked. He was trying to please them both, and it was taking it's toll on him; she saw that now. And she couldn't bear to lose him. She had finally opened her heart to someone other than Thomas, and to lose his love would wound her. She was already terrified of losing Thomas to Edith, and couldn't bear to be abandoned by Vlad as well.

Mina stepped back. Vlad dipped his head down and briefly claimed Lucille's lips, just as Mina caught Thomas heading towards the door.

"Thomas," Mina called, and before he could even respond, she was by his side, with her hand on the doorknob, blocking him.

"I'm retiring to my room. That's all," Thomas answered defensively.

"First, let us take a walk together," Mina suggested, taking his hand into hers. "I don't wish to end the evening this way. We are connected, you and I, and I should like to be your friend. Please don't mistaken my admonishment for loathing."

Thomas hesitated, but knew that it was probably best to appease the older vampire. The Sharpes would, no doubt, see more of Mina in the future, and eternity was a long time; it would be exceedingly unwise to offend her. So, swallowing his pride, he nodded and forced a smile.

"Very well. Please, lead the way," he said. They disappeared, closing the door behind them, and Vlad took the moment to sweep Lucille up into his arms. He nuzzled his nose against hers, kissed her yet again, and lowered her onto the bed, before laying down by her side.

"Have I been a burden to you?" Lucille asked sincerely, taking his hand.

"Never. You are never a burden, my dear," Vlad answered.

"Mina is beautiful," Lucille commented, struggling to keep the emotion out of her voice. Mina was, after all, Vlad's previous love, and while Mina had spoken the truth, Lucille still didn't approve of the way she had scolded her Thomas.

"She is, but I don't love her. She could never forgive me for endangering Lucy, and I could never forgive myself for bringing her pain. In the end, it broke us apart," Vlad confessed, holding her tight.

"You are, and always will be my love. And I am, and always will be your servant."

Lucille gave no answer, but she didn't need to say a thing. Content with his confession, Lucille rested her head upon his chest and instantly fell asleep in his arms. Vlad remained awake for some time, and only when he felt the presence of Mina and Thomas, and knew that they had returned to the hotel, did he finally succumb to sleep himself.


	14. Alliance

**Chapter Fourteen  
** Alliance

 

The following day was uneventful. Edith watched the rain patter against her window, while she continued to write and rewrite her story. She was horribly distracted, unable to properly focus on her work as she usually could. Sir Thomas played on her mind constantly; the picnic had given her a chance to get to know him a little better, but she yearned to know even more. She sensed that Thomas was a complicated person, in possession of a kind heart that craved love. She found herself wishing that he was there right now, in the sitting room with her, telling her more about his passions and dreams. Somehow, she sensed that he rarely got the chance to talk about them. Or, rather, no one took the time to truly listen. She could relate. Edith saw a creative soul, much like herself, and someone who, like Edith, wished to travel and experience life. It excited her to think of the future, and a possible life with Thomas. She knew better than to assume that everything would go as she hoped; there were no promises in life, after all. But she’d never felt this way about another person, and Thomas’ feelings did seem mutual. It truly felt like it was meant to be.

Back at the hotel, Lucille remained in Vlad’s room during the entire course of the day, her limbs tangled with his, and her body pressed against him. His presence gave her comfort, though Vlad knew that her heart remained anxious.

Vlad would awaken from time to time, just to ensure that his children were still present and unharmed, and when he sensed them all, he’d fall asleep again. He was pleased to see Lucille get some proper rest; he knew she would force herself to remain awake if she could, but her body refused to allow it any longer. The undead needed to rest, just as much as the living. Depriving oneself of it would only put her at a disadvantage that none of them could afford. Vlad would keep watch for them both during their rest time, and he was certain that she knew this. And so she continued to sleep until the sun disappeared behind the horizon.

Once it grew dark, Vlad and Lucille met with Mina and Thomas outside their rooms, and they all agreed to take a stroll and enjoy the chilly evening. It seemed to Lucille that Mina and Thomas had effectively settled their differences for the time being, though she didn’t doubt that Mina would gladly reproach Thomas again, if the situation called for it. Upon leaving the hotel, Lucille caught the maids shooting Thomas curious glances as he walked alongside the graceful Mina Harker, and spoke to her like she were the most amiable of friends. Lucille imagined the kinds of tales they must have been weaving inside their heads upon seeing Thomas with her: some of those thoughts would have been romantic and innocent, to be sure, and others would have been rather unspeakable. It sent a quiet ripple of anger up her spine, and it was her piercing gaze that finally forced the inquisitive maids to look away.

Sir Thomas Sharpe would not touch Miss Cushing while the vampires remained in Buffalo. That much had been firmly decided, thanks to Mina’s intervention. If she were to somehow follow the Sharpes to Allerdale Hall, then (and only then) would he attempt to make her his wife. Thomas understood that he was unlikely to gain capital in Buffalo; Carter Cushing was affiliated with Van Helsing, and given that he understood their nature, it would be highly unlikely that he’d actually grant them any sum of money. He would sooner attempt to drive them out of Buffalo, before assisting them in any way.

Lucille felt rather conflicted; she was pleased to see Mina treating Thomas kindly, after scolding him earlier, but she also didn’t like the idea of her getting too close to Thomas. That controlling, jealous part of her rose up, each time she saw Thomas smile, listening to Mina’s stories with a great amount of interest. What distracted her from Thomas and Mina’s conversation was her own hunger; it stirred inside her, and grew worse as she walked among the humans; she could hear their heartbeats, and practically smell the blood pumping through their veins. Her hunger was maddening, and if it wasn’t satiated soon, she knew she would succumb to it. As though Vlad could sense the growing need stirring inside of her, he took her hand and gave it a knowing squeeze, before he tugged her away from the group; the two of them would take care of their own needs and leave Thomas and Mina for the time being. Vlad and Lucille would surely find some lonely drunkard in the shadowy alleyways, and though she wasn’t fond of feeding off of old, intoxicated men, she knew that she couldn’t always be too picky.   
  
“And now there are two,” Mina commented, watching Vlad and Lucille disappear into the shadows. “Tell me, Thomas. How have you been coping with this? All of this?”  
  
Thomas understood what Mina meant, without explanation. She was asking about his unlife – his condition – and she looked genuinely interested in hearing what he had to say. It didn’t take long for Thomas to learn that Mina was an honest soul; she was asking, not out of some kind of obligation, but out of honest, good-hearted concern.  
  
“I’ve…” Thomas started; he hesitated to confess, afraid of showing weakness; he feared that there might be repercussions for telling the truth to another of Vlad’s children, and a former lover at that.  
  
“Struggled, yes?” Mina answered for him, lowering her voice, her smile encouraging him to go on. And that smile gave him all the strength he needed. In that moment, he understood that she would not judge him.  
  
“Yes. I’ve tried to cope, for Lucille; I remain here, on this Earth, only for Lucille, but I don’t want this. I never did,” Thomas said, and for a moment he feared that he might break down in front of Mina.

 “Vlad and Lucille can kill with ease and, if I’m to be perfectly honest, their nature frightens me. They embrace it too readily. And I cannot.”  
  
It surprised him when Mina placed her hand upon his chest, over his once-beating heart. Her arms wrapped around him, and she pulled him into a solid embrace that lasted several seconds.   
  
“You’re a good man, Thomas. Stubborn, yes, but you are perhaps the most human of us four. Hold on to that humanity,” Mina smiled, and she pulled away. She reached down to take his hand into her own.   
  
“I have met many monsters; some of them have been far older than Vlad. They’ve forgotten their humanity, and so they’ve become cold, cruel, terrible things. Vlad and Lucille may be more inclined to go down that path, and they won’t do so slowly… I have already seen the darkness in Vlad, and I can see that it haunts Lucille as well,” Mina told him, watching his brow furrow; he hung on to every word, though none of them made him feel any better.   
  
“Thomas, you are their light; your presence will help them retain their humanity. They may help you survive as a vampire, but you will always remind them of what it is to be human,” Mina squeezed his hand, and reluctantly let it go. Her words would not end his struggle, but they were appreciated nonetheless.

“Thank you, Mina,” Thomas said, and he let Mina take his arm. The two of them strolled into the shadows, moving at a rather leisurely pace.   
  
“I am here to help, and I always will be. Vlad calls upon me from time to time, and you are always welcome to do the same,” Mina told him, nudging his shoulder with her own.   
  
“For how long have you known Vlad?” Thomas asked her; he felt as though a terrible weight had been lifted from his shoulders, though his fears and his grief was, of course, not entirely eliminated.   
  
“I met Vlad a few years ago, in London,” Mina responded with a nostalgic smile, drifting off to some distant memory. “He is fond of London, our Vlad. And he thought he loved me, so he gave me the gift. But we both misunderstood our feelings for each other. And after what happened to Lucy, I experienced too much heartache, and I had to distance myself from him. Just as he had to distance himself from me.”  
  
Thomas thought of Lucille. If Vlad’s love for Lucille extinguished then what would become of the two siblings? He opened his mouth to speak, but Mina continued before he could tell her what played on his mind, answering his questions before he could ask them, as though she’d searched his mind.  
  
“I feel that he truly loves your sister, Thomas. I can see it in his eyes. I can hear it when he speaks to her. And while he is known as a monster, he is loyal to his loved ones,” Mina reassured him, giving him another playful nudge with her shoulder. “He will stand by Lucille, and by you too. My situation was a lot more complicated. You needn’t worry.”  
  
They fell silent. Thomas listened to the sound of his boots against cobblestone, and the distant heartbeats of mortal men and women, ebbing all around him. The sound was carried on the wind, growing louder and then softer as the humans walked about. Thomas could feel Mina’s eyes on him at times, observing him, and quite possibly prying into his mind, though he’d never know for sure. And he thought of Edith once more; he longed for her every time she crossed his mind. Edith was so unlike anyone he had ever met, and he wanted, more than anything, to go on grand adventures with her. He wanted to share his thoughts and ideas with her, just as much as he wanted to hear hers. He wondered what she was doing, and if she was safe and sound. Thomas had never encountered Van Helsing, but he didn’t wish to see Edith mistreated by him, or by anyone else for that matter.

No, that was the last thing he wanted. Thomas would die again to protect her.   
  
“She thinks about you,” Mina said, inspiring Thomas to look up at her, inquisitive and curious. He saw that her eyes were closed, and he noticed that the air around her had grown colder. “I hear her thoughts and see her dreams, and you are forever in them.”  
  
“Does she sleep?”  
  
“Yes. Soundly. She hopes to see you again,” Mina chuckled.  
  
“Really?”  
  
“I would not lie. Not about this,” Mina reassured him. “And if it is meant to be, she will surely follow you home.”

But would she truly follow him?  
  
                                                                                                                 ***  
  
Once they had fed, Vlad had persuaded Lucille to return to the hotel. He reminded her that Thomas was with Mina, and that Mina was as capable and cunning as Vlad. She’d faced danger plenty of times, and she would keep Thomas out of harm’s way.

They walked up the stairs to the hotel with their arms linked together, and Vlad was listening to Lucille talk passionately about a newly discovered species of moth, and her anticipation for new discoveries in the future. Naturally, they were met with surprise and uncertainty when they saw Alan McMichael waiting patiently in the lobby for them both. The pair could see that the young doctor was nervous; his smile was polite but apprehensive, and he stood just a little too rigidly, greeting them with a courteous nod.   
  
“Dr McMichael, what a surprise,” Vlad said, giving him a toothy, sneering grin; he felt Lucille’s grip on his arm tighten. “What brings you here, and at this hour of the evening? I do hope nothing is amiss.”  
  
“I hoped we could talk. That’s all,” Alan replied. He took a step closer, and seemed to be making an honest attempt to disguise his fear of the couple. It wasn’t working too well. Nothing about him appeared natural; he was full of fear and distrust.  
  
“And what is it that you would like to discuss, doctor?” Lucille said this time, watching him warily. Vlad seemed to be the only one who wasn’t harbouring any kind of fear. Alan’s presence simply grated on his nerves a little, but he was mostly amused by the doctor’s presence. Lucille stood a little taller, like a wild animal trying to show dominance, and she refused to take her unblinking gaze off of Alan for fear that he might attempt to harm them. Vlad highly doubted that Alan would dare to attack in front of the drowsy late-night hotel staff; it would be an extremely foolish thing to do, but Lucille wasn’t taking that into consideration. She simply saw a threat and wanted it gone immediately. For now, this was their territory, and Alan was the intruder.

“I suspect you might already know,” answered Alan. Vlad grinned a little wider, and Alan shifted his attention to Lucille. Vlad’s calm but unsettling demeanour appeared to bother him.  
  
“I don’t wish for any trouble. Please,” Alan added, and after ensuring that no one was watching, he opened his coat to show them that he had no weapons. “I come to you, with no intention to harm, and I hope that you will receive me peacefully.”  
  
“Very well,” Vlad said, ignoring the look of horror colouring Lucille’s face. But she swallowed her words, and reluctantly let Vlad do the talking. “We promise. Come, let us speak somewhere much more private.”  
  
They walked together but did not speak, and the tension between them all was thick and uncomfortable. Lucille continuously turned to look at Alan, who was following behind them, and each time they made eye contact, he would give her an apologetic, nervous smile. Alan kept his hands by his side the entire time. And her eyes kept asking him why he had come to them at all. She didn’t trust him. Both Vlad and Alan could see that.

“Won’t you come in?” Vlad asked, as soon as they stopped outside of Vlad’s room. Alan’s throat suddenly felt dry and his heart was beginning to beat rapidly; he swallowed and nodded wordlessly, and Vlad chuckled, before unlocking and opening the door. Vlad stood back and gestured for Alan to go first.  
  
“After you.”  
  
“Thank you,” Alan said.  
  
Alan found a place to sit, and Lucille sat across from him, still watching and waiting for him to turn on them.

“I must praise you on your musical skill, Miss Sharpe. It was an honor to hear you play during the reception,” Alan said, trying to make things a little less awkward between them all, but she received his compliment with no kindness or pleasure. There was only loathing and suspicion in her eyes.  
  
“Thank you. It pleases me to hear such kind words,” Lucille answered coldly; her words were polite but still sharp enough to make Alan wince.  
  
“I apologise for calling on you so suddenly. You must think it strange,” Alan said, tearing his gaze away from Lucille’s to stare at the floor.  
  
“I do,” Lucille answered. He could still feel her gaze burning into him. He cleared his throat; she wasn’t going to like his answer.  
  
“Thomas gave your location to Edith, and she, in turn, gave it to me, after some questioning. I am concerned for Edith, and for you,” Alan said quickly, noticing the look of rage that flashed over Lucille’s face when he mentioned her brother.  
  
“Why?” Vlad spoke up this time, raising an eyebrow. Vlad could understand Alan’s concern for Edith, but his concern for the Sharpes and for Vlad was more than a little peculiar. “You know what we are. Why would you feel concern for us?”

“Because I have heard whispers that colleagues of Van Helsing wish to detain you,” he paused, struggling to finish his sentence. He was finding it difficult to look at Vlad or Lucille. “For experimentation.”  
  
At this revelation, Lucille immediately shot up from her seat; Vlad instantly reached for her hand, in an attempt to calm her.   
  
“They wish to understand your condition. And for this reason, I think it’s in your best interest to leave Buffalo. These men do not harbor good intentions…”

“And why are you telling us this?” Lucille questioned, her eyes wide with fear; she was shaking slightly, her lip twitched and trembled, and it was taking all of her energy not to fly into a rage.

“Because these men watch Edith; they think she has been bitten and they wish to document the anticipated changes… They show interest in Edith and in Sir Sharpe, who they believe to be her sire” he told them. “Please. I care for Edith as much as I imagine you both care for Sir Sharpe, and I don’t wish for them to become victims of these…madmen. I would gladly fund your journey home…”  
  
Vlad held up a hand.  
  
“That will be unnecessary. You will do no such thing,” he protested, placing his hand upon Alan’s shoulder as an old friend would. “You have done more than enough, and we thank you for your warning. We shall depart as soon as possible.”  
  
Alan caught the look of relief in Lucille’s gaze. He nodded to her, offering a polite smile that still failed to mask his wariness completely.

“I must apologise for causing you any stress, Lady Sharpe,” he said. “Excuse me.”

Alan turned to leave, without giving Lucille the opportunity to respond to his words. A firm hand on his wrist, however, forced him to stop, and he turned to see Lucille, her brow furrowed and her lips pursed. She was the image of desperation and fright, and it almost made Alan’s heart feel heavy to see her looking that terrified. He had to remind himself that she was nothing but a monster that preyed upon and corrupted the innocent, but somehow he couldn’t believe his own thoughts. Not when he looked into those eyes and saw how scared she was. Her emotions were human, even though she was not.  
  
“Doctor,” Lucille’s fingers tightened around his wrist. “If we leave Buffalo, will Dr Van Helsing then leave us in peace?”

“I shall do all I can to ensure it,” Alan answered softly. “I cannot predict or control his actions, but I can certainly try to convince him.”  
  
Lucille’s fingers loosened around his wrist; he slipped his hand into hers and placed a chaste kiss upon her knuckles before straightening back up.

“Thank you doctor. I only wish for my family to be safe,” Lucille said.  
  
“Of course you do. Just as I wish or the safety of my friend.”  
  
“We shall speak to Thomas as soon as he returns. Thank you again, doctor,” Lucille informed him, shaken but pleased that they understood each other.  
  
With that, Lucille released his hand. Alan nodded to Vlad and Lucille and, without another word, disappeared from their sight. Lucille could feel Vlad’s hand upon her shoulder; she felt the wave of calm wash over her, flowing through every vein, and diluting her every fear. He was manipulating her emotions again, calming the brewing storm deep inside of her, for the sake of all three of them. In many ways, Lucille welcomed it. It wasn’t invasive, but necessary for her to go on. She was far too exhausted. The stress was becoming too heavy for her to bear and she felt as though she might crumble underneath it all. A temporary calm wouldn’t fix their problems, but it brought her a short-lived reprieve.

“ _I_ will talk to Thomas once he returns,” Vlad whispered, his lips touching her forehead, and his arm draping around Lucille’s shoulders.  
  
“I can do it,” Lucille quietly protested, but she already knew that Vlad would take charge and do it on her behalf.

  
“I know, darling. But these monsters are likely acquaintances of Van Helsing, and he hunts us because he knows of me. This is my burden. Please, let me do it,” Vlad insisted, drawing her in a little closer.

Her response was a defeated sigh, and she leaned into him, quietly accepting his proposal. There was nothing left to say. The news was horrifying, but at least it was an incentive for them to leave America immediately. Lucille could hardly stand being in Buffalo. This world was not for them. They were safe in Allerdale Hall, in isolation and away from danger. Vlad’s hand rubbed over her back; he whispered words of affection and love, and occasionally she answered back with her own. He nuzzled her throat, kissed her soft skin, and then stepped away so she could change into her nightgown. He heard rustling velvet, he heard the bed creak as she crawled onto it, but he did not join her. Instead, he went to the window, gazing at the fog shrouded moon. He called to Mina and to Thomas, and felt Mina’s response. They were safe; that satisfied Vlad, but didn’t inspire him to rest.

The darkness had been disturbed.

  
                                                                                                                          ***  
  
In the early hours of the morning, Edith Cushing awoke to a terrible cry; she shot up from her pillow, and carefully got out of bed, doing everything in her power to remain completely silent. Heavy, frenzied footsteps upon the stairs made her freeze up in horror, and she stared at her closed bedroom door.

“Miss Cushing?!” the voice of the household maid rang through the hall, but Edith felt no relief upon hearing her cry; Annie sounded awfully shaken, and she would never call out to Edith, or open her bedroom door without permission, as she did right now.

“Annie?! Whatever is the matter?!” Edith exclaimed, her throat growing dry and her stomach churning with a terrible anticipation. The other woman looked visibly distraught, and seemed to struggle to find the right words; it was like she still couldn’t quite believe what she had seen.  
  
“Annie, please!” Edith demanded, her own voice trembling.

“J-Just… oh my God, miss, I…” Annie answered with a sob, holding her hand to her mouth. “I don’t know what to do… It’s Mister Cushing, he…”  
  
“Take me to him,” Edith bit her lip, feeling the horror well up in her chest. Wordlessly, Annie turned and started to lead Edith down the stairs. Edith had to remind herself to breathe; she felt nauseous and scared, and it only got worse when she saw her father, sprawled on the floor, lifeless and pale. She dashed past Annie, and fell to her knees beside him, placing her hands upon his chest.

“Father!” she yelled.

She heard Annie say something about someone fetching a doctor, and someone else fetching the police. It took her about a minute to realise that a window had been shattered; there was blood on the floor, and blood and skin caked under Carter’s fingernails; it looked like he’d clawed at someone; there were books and personal belongings strewn on the floor. There had clearly been a struggle.

“A-Annie… get me Thomas. Thomas, or Alan. If they can’t be found, than please just fetch me Vlad and Lucille,” Edith said, unable to take her eyes off of her father. “Please Annie.”  
  
“Right away, miss!” Annie said, signalling for another maid to stand watch.

“What happened here?” Edith said between weak sniffles, her hot tears blinding her. She heard the maid speak, but again, she didn’t hear the words. She could only mourn her poor father…

                                                                                                                           ***  
  
The doorbell rang once again; four vampires paused their story to ponder who it was, and silently decided amongst themselves that Lucille ought to be the one to answer the door. Though Lucille believed Edith should actually be the one to do it, she was clearly outnumbered, and so the raven-haired woman walked down the shadowy hallway and, with a content heart, opened the door to someone who had become a most unexpected friend.

Dr Alan McMichael smiled upon seeing her face, and she too smiled upon seeing him. His eyes, loving but forever concerned for her, bore into her own.

“Alan, what a wonderful surprise,” Lucille breathed. He wore his hair in a slightly more rugged fashion these days, and he dressed casually, in modern jeans and a simple, white shirt.  
  
“I gathered you’d be staying in for the evening. And I was in town, so I wanted to say hello,” he told her, and he brushed his fingers against her cheek, brow furrowing. She closed her eyes for a second, savouring his touch, and then she allowed him to draw her in, his arms wrapping around her waist.

“How are you?” He whispered, holding her tightly. His question made her smile; he was always so worried over her, and concerned over her mental wellbeing. Alan had been her rock, in many ways, just as Vlad had been. They both kept her grounded when Thomas could not. She would never have predicted that Alan would become so very dear to her, but it had happened.  
  
“As well as I’ll ever be, dear Alan. I’m so pleased to see you,” Lucille whispered back, and after a long moment of serene silence, they stepped away from each other; Lucille’s fingers grazed down Alan’s arms, and she took his hands, giving them both a squeeze.

“Is Mina here?” Lucille asked.  
  
“She is,” came a velvety voice behind Alan. Mina peeked over Alan’s shoulder and gave a small wave.

“It’s wonderful to see you too,” Lucille said, and she stepped aside to let them both in.

“Likewise,” said Mina. Alan also stepped aside, allowing Mina to enter first, before he did. Lucille noted the black case that Mina held in one hand, her fingers clutching the handles.  
  
Once the pair were inside, Lucille closed the door behind them. Alan linked his right arm with Lucille’s and his left with Mina’s, and the three of them started to walk together.

“It seems the entire family is here this evening,” Lucille said. “I didn’t… expect this.”  
  
“I hope we’re not imposing,” Mina grinned, though she doubted it. Lucille always preferred it when her family remained close to her.

“Not at all,” Lucille answered.   
  
“Well, I’ll leave you two alone for a moment,” Mina broke away from the pair, and with a playful grin, she started to walk ahead of them. Alan and Lucille stopped; he pulled a small, glass vial out of his pocket, which was filled with blood, and he handed it to her.  
  
“It’s not much, but I managed to get some from the hospital. There’s more in the case,” Alan said, watching her take the vial and look it over, like she was checking for something.   
  
It was no secret that Lucille didn’t particularly enjoy going outside to hunt; sometimes, she outright refused for days, which was an extremely risky practice.

Lucille smiled, and leaned in to press a grateful kiss upon his cool lips.

“Thank you.”  
  
“Have you been eating properly?” Alan asked her.  
  
“I have. Please… you needn’t concern yourself with me,” Lucille calmly stated. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumb caressing her cheek.

“I’m always concerned for you, you know that,” he answered, dropping his hand. “But I’m glad to hear you’ve been well.”

“You will stay here, won’t you? With me and Vlad?” Lucille asked with hope in her voice.

“I couldn’t think of anything better,” Alan replied honestly.

She responded with another smile, and took his arm into hers again, leading Alan to the others.   
  
Edith was the first to notice Alan’s entrance; she stood up and ran to him, and Lucille quickly stepped aside, giving them room to hug.

“Alan! It’s so good to see you,” she exclaimed. He laughed at her enthusiasm, walking into her outstretched arms, and embracing her.  
  
“It’s good to see you too, Edith. I feel like it’s been a while,” Alan said.

“That’s because it has been a while!” Edith said, breaking the hug.  
  
“Well, I got a transfer to the local hospital here, so you will be seeing more of me,” he said, as Edith took him by the hand and led him to the group. They all stood; Thomas and Vlad shook Alan’s hand, and Vlad lowered himself onto the ground, as did Thomas and Alan, surrendering the couch to the three women.

“That is splendid news; it’s good to have you here with us,” Vlad grinned. “Actually, we were talking about you and Mina, both.”  
  
“Good things, I hope,” Mina laughed.  
  
“Always,” Thomas interjected. “You remember when we first met? And you berated me?”  
  
“Oh, yes!” Mina exclaimed. “You were so ridiculously stubborn, but oddly endearing at the same time. And nothing has changed at all.”  
  
“I’m afraid not,” Thomas shrugged.  
  
“I will never forget Paris,” Mina sighed, looking at him like a disappointed parent.   
  
“We should never talk about Paris again, in fact,” Thomas grimaced.

  
“What exactly happened in Paris?” Lucille questioned cautiously, causing Thomas to look at her like a deer caught in headlights.

“More like what didn’t happen in Paris,” Mina sighed, giving Lucille’s shoulder a pat. “But that is a story for another evening. Now, what were you talking about?”  
  
Lucille, who seemed reluctant to change the topic, hesitated to give an answer, and so Vlad stepped in, flashing her an apologetic smile.  
  
“Buffalo, where we met Edith, and Alan,” he said.   
  
“More specifically, the evening poor Edith’s father passed away,” Lucille corrected him. “Alan had come to talk to us at the hotel. Mina and Thomas were out hunting… We were planning on leaving, and had no idea of what was to come next…”


End file.
